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HE KEPT A FOOTBALL WITH HIM 



PHTLIP KENT 

IN 

THELOWER SCHOOL 

By 

TY r TRUXTUN HARE 

n 

Author of 
PHILIP KENT 

THE COLLEGE ATHLETIC SERIES, Etc. 


Illustrated by R. L. Boyer / 



THE PENN PUBLISHING 
COMPANY PHILADELPHIA 
1916 



COPYRIGHT -* 
1916 BY 
THE PENN 
PUBLISHING 
COMPANY 




NOV 25;i9l6 


/ 


Philip Kent in the Lower School 


©CI.A445793 

“Kn? y 



Introduction 


If you have followed the fortunes of Philip 
through his experiences as a new boy at Mal- 
vern as told in the previous volume, “ Philip 
Kent,” you will need no introduction to the 
quartet which figures so largely in the following 
pages. 

The present volume takes “ The Minute,” 
“ Baconfat,” Jack Tait and “ Lippy ” through 
their second, third and fourth years. Philip dis- 
covers that it is not always natural inclination 
which evolves the bully and that to lead the 
lower school requires brains and tact rather than 
muscles and bull-headedness. He learns the les- 
son ; at what expense to his pride the reader may 
discover for himself. 


3 



Contents 


I. 

A Casual Meeting 






9 

II. 

Forward Pass . 






*5 

III. 

Getting Even . 






4 i 

IV. 

Hard Luck 






55 

V. 

Norton 






68 

VI. 

“ Good-Bye, Kent ” 






81 

VII. 

Uninvited Guests 






90 

VIII. 

The Knack of It 






103 

IX. 

The First Team 






118 

X. 

At Windsor , . 






*35 

XI. 

The Turning Point 






152 

XII. 

The White M 






*74 

XIII. 

The Pond . 






191 

XIV. 

Broken Ice 






206 

XV. 

A Little Present 






227 

XVI. 

Rebellion . 






245 

XVII. 

Punishment 






262 

XVIII. 

A Bully 






282 

XIX. 

A Different Boy 






298 

XX. 

“ All Right, Old Man ” 





3*3 


5 














Illustrations 


He Kept a Football With Him 
“ Let Me Have a Shot At You ” . 
“Won’t You Have Some Jam, Too ? ” . 

“ Go Right After Them ” 
u Can You Hold Out ? ” He Called 
u Have One ? ” He Said .... 
“ I Expect at Least Fifteen Points from 


PAGE 

. Frontispiece 

. 47 

. 100 

• *55 

. 216 

. 251 

You” . 310 


Philip Kent in the Lower School 


















Philip Kent in the Lower 
School 


CHAPTER I 

A CASUAL MEETING 

“ Next stop Malvern ! " 

The brakeman's announcement was greeted 
with jeers from every seat in the car. 

“ Tell us something we don't know ! " 

“ What do you think we are ? New boys ? " 

“ Oh, let him alone," ordered a corpulent youth 
with red hair. “ He's new to the job. Jimmy 
would have known better." 

The brakeman, red in the face, slammed the 
door and retired to the platform, leaving the car 
full of schoolboys to a hurried collection of scat- 
tered belongings. 

“ I guess the school’s opening to-day," he vol- 
unteered non-committally as the conductor joined 
him. 

“ You ain't so far wrong," admitted that official 
as he snapped a rubber band round a bunch of 
9 


PHILIP KENT 


tickets. “ They are a healthy bunch to handle 
when they get started. Don't let 'em get your 
goat," he added. “ I knew their fathers before 
them when I was braking same as you, and the 
breed hasn’t changed none. Listen to 'em now ! " 

The new brakeman had no choice in the matter. 
Shrill above the grinding of the brakes as the 
train slackened speed for its next stop rose the 
sustained din of the Malvern cheer. The brake- 
man grinned at his superior. 

“ I never felt like cheering when my school 
opened," he remarked reflectively. 

The conductor brushed the remark aside. 
“ This bunch never does what you'd expect," he 
remarked tersely. “ Go in and herd 'em out. 
Here we are." 

As the train drew into the station and stopped 
with a jolt, the door flew open in the face of the 
advancing brakeman, and with the red-haired 
youth in the lead, the body of boys catapulted 
down the steps, valises banging against the hand 
rail and threatening to trip up or bowl over any 
one whose sense of discretion had not carried him 
to a safe distance. 

“ Good-bye, Cap," yelled the redhead, dropping 
his bag with a thump on the station platform and 
waving a grimy hand at the conductor. “ See you 
at Christmas." 

io 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“ So long, Bacon.” The conductor threw a 
questioning look down the length of his train for 
possible dilatory passengers and reached for the 
bell-cord. 

“ You’ll get a bunch like that every trip for 
the next two days,” he remarked to the brake- 
man as Malvern station faded from sight round 
the curve. “ Keep ’em good humored and don’t 
let ’em fall off the train. That’s about all you 
can do.” 

“ Humph ! ” said the brakeman as he filled a 
glass with water at the cooler and drained it re- 
flectively, “ it’ll about keep me busy keeping my- 
self good humored.” 

On Malvern platform confusion reigned. The 
express wagon, drawn up to the curb, was being 
piled high with bags. Trunk checks were being 
searched for in forgotten pockets at the demand 
of the baggage agent, whose business it was to de- 
liver all luggage safely at the school, and in twos 
and threes the new arrivals, these formalities over, 
were drifting up the street. 

“ Wait for me, Lippy,” called Bacon who, after 
vainly trying to remember to which pocket he had 
confided his check, was solving the problem by 
the process of elimination. 

A boy who was impatiently balancing himself 
on the edge of the platform looked back. 

ii 


PHILIP KENT 


“ No hurry/’ he said sarcastically. “ Why 
don’t you undress while you’re about it? ” 

“ Here we are/’ called Bacon, triumphantly ex- 
tracting the missing cardboard from the lining 
of his hat. “ I knew I had it somewhere. Now 
we’re off! ” 

He linked his arm in that of his friend and 
stepped down into the dusty road. 

The third week of every September saw this 
same exodus, from the cities and towns of a dozen 
states, gather by wide-spread railroads boasting of 
their four-track stone ballasted rights-of-way, till 
the scattered units suddenly resolved themselves 
into a mass which stormed the single-track road 
waiting funnel-like to receive and discharge them 
at the gateway of Malvern School, there to split 
up again in as many units as before, though now 
citizens of one town with a^ heart one common 
bond. 

Malvern School, perched on high ground, domi- 
nated the village through which Bacon and Lippy 
passed. Usually the village street held their in- 
terest, but now the one desire animating them was 
to push on for their first glimpse of the red-brick 
pile with its multitudinous interests which they 
had left so eagerly in June. 

To Philip Kent, otherwise known as Lippy, this 
return ’was new. In June he was a first former 


12 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

and a new boy ; now a proud member of the sec- 
ond form and an old boy by grace of one years 
residence. How different his feelings in the short 
space of twelve months ! He looked, hunting for 
new faces, at the passing carriages. New boys al- 
ways rode. He had done so, he remembered with 
a half feeling of scorn for his other self. 

“ Don’t feel your oats excessively.” Bacon in- 
terrupted his expanding thoughts with character- 
istic sarcasm. “ You’re not such an awfully old 
boy yet, you know.” 

Lippy, brought to earth, flushed. Then, to 
cover himself, furious at this sign of weakness, he 
retorted hotly : 

“ None of your freshness, Mr. Bacon. We’re on 
an even footing now.” 

“ Not on your life. I’ve been here a whole year 
more than you have. ' 

“ You’re only in the second though, all the same. 

Now if you hadn’t flunked out ” Lippy had 

to dodge quickly to avoid Bacon’s reprisal. He 
allowed no one to twit him on his enforced stay 
in the first form. 

The attack was side-tracked by their arrival on 
the crest of the hill. Before them stretched the 
playing fields with the school bounding the fur- 
ther side. They stopped to take stock of the fa- 
miliar scene. 


13 


PHILIP KENT 


The school was built in the form of an H. The 
right wing was the headquarters of Dr. Wallace, 
where they were now bound. On the left, joined 
to the other wing by a cloistered walk, was the 
chapel. Above the cloister’s roof appeared the 
body of the H dotted with rows of windows, the 
various dormitories and bedrooms. A crowd of 
boys lounged in the entrance ; a few were idly 
kicking a football in the middle distance, while 
to the right white figures darting to and fro indi- 
cated that the tennis courts had already been in- 
vaded. 

The two boys stood for a moment entranced at 
the familiar scene. 

“ It looks about the same,” remarked Bacon, his 
shining eyes belying the cool restraint of his 
words. 

“ Great ! ” said Lippy, thereby affirming Bacon’s 
earlier remark as to his immaturity. Bacon con- 
sidered enthusiasm unbecoming except under great 
provocation. 

“ Let’s get along,” continued the offended. “ I 
want to see what alcove I drew. Hope we’re near 
each other.” 

For all his indifference Bacon was quite willing 
to follow the other’s lead, and was no laggard in 
their race across the football field. 

“ Hello, Baconfat ! ” 


14 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

“ Hello yourself.” 

“ No thinner, I perceive.” 

“ Don't get personal, Jonesy.” 

The crowd at the entrance impeded their prog- 
ress for a moment with a shower of questions, cal- 
culated to extract in the shortest possible time the 
full details of their summer vacation, but the two 
were not responsive. Their own interests came 
first ; there would be ample opportunity to supply 
information later. They pushed on. 

Dr. Wallace met them at his study door. 

“ Glad to see you back on time, boys,” he said 
warmly. “ Nothing like making a good start.” 
He led the way into his sanctum. “ I suppose 
you want to know your quarters,” he added as he 
turned to a typewritten list which lay spread out 
on the desk. “ Babbitt, Babcock, Bacon,” fee ran 
down the list. “ Here we are, Bacon T., Alcove 
11, Dormitory B. How does that suit you? ” 

“ I don't know, sir,” said Bacon non-commit- 
tally. “ 1 guess it's all right.” 

“ It had better be,” retorted the head master 
with mock severity. “ 1 am not going to make 
any more changes. Now for Kent. You're not so 
hard to find. Not many K's in school. Alcove 
15, Dormitory B. Well, you're pretty close to- 
gether.” 

“ Couldn't we be next to each other?” queried 
i5 


PHILIP KENT 

Bacon, no whit deterred by the Doctor’s earlier re- 
mark. 

“ Are you two so inseparable? There’s only 
one alcove between you.” 

“ That’s true, sir, but ” 

“ But what?” He turned to another list. “I 
don’t remember who is in 13. Norton. He’s one 
of the new boys. I don’t think I’ll change him. 
You and Kent can look out for him and help him 
along. Now run along, both of you. No ! ” He 
raised his hand in protest. “ No use arguing. We 
won’t change.” 

“I wonder if Norton is superstitious?” sug- 
gested Philip as they left the Doctor’s quarters be- 
hind them and plunged into the resounding cor- 
ridors of the school proper. “ No. 13 doesn’t 
sound propitious.” 

“ If he isn’t superstitious,” said Bacon darkly, 
“ I have a suspicion that we can make him so. 
What does he want to butt in between us that way 
for? We’ll look out for you all right, Mr. what’s- 
your-name Norton.” 

Up the two flights of iron stairway they 
clambered to their new quarters, stopped on every 
landing by old acquaintances with whom it was 
necessary to pass the time of day. 

“ Dormitory B ? So’m I.” 

“ Who’s in charge this year ? ” 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“ A new man. Ames.” 

“ That’s bad. I was hoping they’d move Ricky 
over. It’s an awful chore breaking a new master 
in. They always think you are trying to impose 
on ’em when you have any fun. So long ; see you 
later.” 

“ This isn’t bad,” commented Philip as he sur- 
veyed No. 15 a few minutes later. The alcove 
contained the usual allowance of furniture : a 
bed, bureau and chair. To the casual eye it 
looked bare, but in Philip’s imagination the walls 
were already hidden with flags and pictures, the 
curtain of striped ticking replaced with gaudy 
chintz, and the severe bed brightened with a down 
quilt. Yes. It was going to be a very nice 
alcove. 

44 It’s nice being up at this end.” This from 
Bacon, who lounged in the doorway. 44 We won’t 
annoy Ames so easily when we have a feed.” 

44 Pity we aren’t neighbors. See the new fel- 
low ? ” 

“ Didn’t look in.” Bacon disappeared, and 
Philip heard him next door. 

44 Hello, what’s your name? ” 

“ Norton ; George Norton,” came the hesitating 
response. 

41 What form are you in ? ” 

44 The second.” 




PHILIP KENT 

“ Come here, Lippy, I’ve got something to show 
you.” 

Philip wandered into No. 13 to find Bacon 
confronting a solid looking boy, with pale yellow 
hair and a white skin, and wearing spectacles. 

“ H’m,” said Philip, recognizing the type in- 
stantly. “ You go in for studying, I see.” 

Norton, looking very uncomfortable, mumbled 
some reply, while his white skin disappeared in a 
wave of color, which surged over his face, of so 
brilliant a hue that he resembled for the instant a 
bellicose turkey-gobbler. 

“ Gee ! ” said Philip admiringly. “How do you 
do that? Do it again.” 

The new boy, much against his will, promptly 
repeated the performance. 

“ I have seen all sorts of blushes,” remarked 
Baconfat judicially, drawing on his experience as 
though it extended back to the Dark Ages, “ but 
you have anything I ever ran across hog-tied and 
left at the post. Can you do it whenever you 
want to? ” 

Norton giggled uneasily, puzzled how to take 
this unusual type of tormentor ; saw his error as 
reflected instantly in Bacon’s face ; checked him- 
self, choked and once more gave an imitation of a 
brilliant sunset. 

“ You’re a great acquisition to the dormitory.” 

18 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

Philip had been standing by watching the per- 
formance with delight. “ I think I’ll patent you. 
Kent’s ever-ready light, wireless and inexhaustible. 
In — in — what do they say when you copy some- 
thing you shouldn’t? Infringements prosecuted. 
That’s it ! ” 

“ Steady, Lippy,” warned Baconfat, suddenly 
examining their victim with anxious care. “ Stop 
your funny business or you will exhaust the cur- 
rent. His light’s getting weak. Give the gener- 
ator a chance to make some more juice. Let’s see 
if Jack Tait has turned up yet.” 

As his inquisitors left the alcove, Norton turned 
to his window with a trembling sigh. While he 
had been arranging his few treasures on his 
bureau, his alcove had assumed a cozy air ; had 
given him courage ; had made him forget for a 
moment that he was in strange surroundings with 
his way to make in this new democracy. With 
the appearance of Bacon all was changed. His 
alcove became again a bare stall, a frail refuge 
from the disconcerting world, and homesickness 
surged over him. 

Philip was feeling elated. He had fleshed his 
spurs. He had asserted his position as an old 
boy ; and because he still rememberd certain un- 
happy hours of fagdom and blushed to remember, 
he was the more inclined to practice on others 

19 


PHILIP KENT 


what he had learnt the year before. He fairly 
swaggered down the dormitory. 

This elevation of spirit was but temporary. 
There was too much with which to renew ac- 
quaintance, too many old friends to ferret out in 
their alcoves deep in unpacking, for Philip to 
spend much thought on his own affairs. That 
might come later. 

“ Well, if it isn’t The Minute ! ” 

“ Rodney Moore, if you please. Can’t you see 
I’ve grown ? ” 

Bacon formed a loop with finger and thumb 
and looked at the new arrival through this nat- 
ural telescope. 

“ I can see you, if that’s what you mean,” he 
admitted grudgingly after a moment’s scrutiny. 

“ Half an inch ! ” affirmed The Minute proudly. 

“ You don’t mean it ? ” Philip was lost in mock 
admiration. 

“ If you don’t look out, I’ll top you both by the 
time we are in the sixth.” 

“ Yes, you will — not ! ” jeered Bacon. “ But 
half inch or no, it’s fine to see you again. The 
clans are gathering. See Jack Tait anywhere? ” 

“ Sure. Came on the same train. Left him 
making himself solid with the Gorgon.” 

“ What’s up?” 

“ Oh, nothing ! He was just telling the Doctor 
20 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


what a nice vacation he had, and how glad he 
was to get back.” 

“ Trust Jack for that,” said Philip. 11 He’s 
great on the soft-soap.” 

Bacon made a grimace. “ You were just as bad 
the other way,” he said. “ Are you going to be 
as independent this year ? ” 

Philip grinned in return. “ More so,” he said, 
half defiantly. “ If I have to.” 

“ I don’t know what we’ll do with Lippy this 
year, Rodney,” said Bacon. “ He’s come back 
with a chip on his shoulder. Thinks his troubles 
are all over just because he’s an old boy.” 

Bacon looked expectantly at The Minute. 
“ Well, aren’t they ? ” said the latter simply. 

Bacon groaned. “ You two will be the death 
of me ; not to speak of yourselves. I’m going to 
clear out of such company.” 

“ Wait a minute,” said Rodney laughingly. 
“ It’s not as bad as all that. We might listen to 
reason. Let me drop my bag, and I’m with you.” 

With nothing to do until supper time except 
unpack the trunks which had not yet arrived, the 
three started on an exploring expedition. 

They peered into the master’s study and were 
more than half relieved to find it empty. Making 
the acquaintance of one who is to rule over you 
for a year is always a difficult occasion and as 
21 


PHILIP KENT 


Bacon from his larger experience put it, “ just as 
well to let him hunt you up. It’s more casual.” 

From there they invaded Dormitory A, and in- 
spected the alcoves they had owned as first form- 
ers, much to the embarrassment of the new occu- 
pants, who stood round on one foot questioning 
whether they should open the conversation or if 
silence was the more respectful and therefore safer 
attitude. As a matter of fact, they need not have 
worried. The visitors were much too intent on 
their own business to pay any attention to the 
new boys for the moment. So long as they kept 
from under foot they were ignored. 

“ Do you remember the morning South Cor- 
ridor came up and walloped us ? ” asked Philip, 
grinning with joy at the reminiscence. 

“ Gee ! ” exclaimed The Minute, “ I should 
think I did. They lit into old Baconfat, too.” 

“ Huh ! ” retorted the latter, his dignity offended 
at mention of his humiliation. “ It was all the 
fault of you kids. I told you to keep quiet. 
They hadn’t any business to make me run the 
gauntlet, though. It was a mean trick. Gregory 
Hart did it.” 

“ Momma Welsh tried to save you,” said Philip. 

“Sure he did. He’s all right. But it just goes 
to show, Lippy, that even an old boy isn’t safe 
when it comes to hazing. You’d better get these 
22 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


independent ideas out of your head and lie low. 
Otherwise, — look out when the snow flies.” 

“ I’ll take my chances,” retorted Philip con- 
fidently. “ There’s a bunch of new boys to keep 
’em busy.” 

They idled down West Corridor 3, the name 
given to the stronghold of the fourth form, 
glanced through open doors at the comfortable 
rooms within, and, boy-like, dreamed of the day 
when one of these desirable havens would be 
theirs. 

“ It won’t be long,” said Rodney, breaking the 
silence and voicing perfectly the thoughts of his 
companions. 14 We’ll be in the fourth form before 
we know it.” 

“ You and I will,” agreed Philip, winking at 
The Minute. 44 But I’m not so sure about Bacon- 
fat. He will probably flunk out as usual.” 

44 As usual ! I like that ! ” exclaimed Bacon in- 
dignantly and turned on his defamer. Philip 
dodged and, hotly pursued, raced down the cor- 
ridor. He reached the iron doors leading to the 
dormitory in safety, darted through and collided 
violently with some one coming in the opposite 
direction. 

44 Phew !” said the latter. 44 What’s up?” and 
grabbed the startled boy' by the shoulder. 

44 What’s your name ? ” 


23 


PHILIP KENT 


Philip looked up. The individual holding him 
bore all the earmarks of a master. 

“ Kent, sir,” he said breathlessly with an in- 
ward quaking. 

“ Kent ? And the others ? ” 

“ Bacon and Moore.” 

“ Well ! ” The master considered them. “ That 
was a rude introduction, Kent. My name is Ames. 
I have charge of Dormitory B.” 

“ I hope I didn’t hurt you ! ” stammered Kent. 
“ I couldn’t stop.” 

“ No harm done this time,” said the master 
pleasantly as he passed on. “ But if I were you, 
Kent, I’d save my speed for the playing field.” 

Philip looked blankly at Bacon. “ Gee I ” he 
said. Then, “ What do you find so funny about 
it, Rodney?” he asked as he saw The Minute 
doubled up in silent laughter. 

“ Oh, dear ! ” gasped Rodney. “ Nothing — 
nothing much ! I was just thinking of what Ba- 
confat said about meeting him casually ! ” 


24 


CHAPTER II 


FORWARD PASS 

When the three boys had somewhat recovered 
their composure, for The Minute's remark had so 
tickled their risibilities that Bacon and Philip had 
used up what breath remained to them from the 
chase down the hall, they made a fresh start. 
This time they descended without interruption. 
The ground floor was, as Bacon expressed it, 14 all 
cluttered up with new boys," but they found enough 
old acquaintances to spend a busy half hour in 
boisterous greetings. Through the throng of 
smaller fry passed an occasional member of the up- 
per school ; the blue cap, with the white M denot- 
ing a member of the school eleven, well back on 
his head. The small fry would look at him in 
awed silence, for the most part, hoping for a 
glance, a sign of recognition which would put the 
recipient in a niche above his fellows. Even the 
old boys of the lower school waited to be spoken 
to. 

There are, however, two ways of waiting : the 
unobtrusive timid style, which usually succeeds 
in being ignored, and the aggressive insistent 

25 


PHILIP KENT 


style, which usually accomplishes its purpose. 
Baconfat belonged to the latter class. Being a 
stickler on form, however, his method could not 
be taken exception to. Down the corridor, push- 
ing an absent-minded way, would come a member 
of the sixth. Most boys would make room in- 
stantly and be passed unnoticed. Bacon, inten- 
tionally slow, would just avoid being run down. 
The sixth former would be jostled out of his ab- 
straction, come to himself with a start and recog- 
nize the impediment to his progress. 

“ Hello, Baconfat; still with us?” 

“ Hullo ! Wilcox!” or “Judson” as the case 
might be. “ You look in fine shape for football. 
Guess we'll trim Windsor again, won't we? ” 

The sixth former would give a smiling assent 
and pass on, but Baconfat had once again im- 
pressed his importance on the newcomers, who 
watched the recurrent episode with wistful eyes. 

There was one who came, however, who needed 
no jostling to draw his attention. 

“ Gee ! There's Momma Welsh,” exclaimed The 
Minute. 

Welsh, tall, loosely knit, red haired, came strid- 
ing down the hall, his eyes darting from side to 
side, his face a constant smile as he nodded to boy 
after boy who hailed him. There was no question 
about his popularity. 


26 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“ Hello, Bacon ; Moore, glad to see you. And 
Phil ! You’re growing, Kid. Going to show us 
some real football this year? How have you 
been ? But there’s no need asking. You’ve been 
getting your nine hours.” 

Philip looked pleased as Punch at this recogni- 
tion. 

“ Awfully glad to see you back, Momma.” 

“ The pleasure is mutual,” retorted Momma with 
a twinkle. “ Where’s the other member of your 
quartet ? What’s his name, Tait ? ” 

“ ’Round somewhere.” Bacon searched the hall. 

“ Well, be good to yourselves.” 

Momma strode away, his walk a triumphal 
march. 

“ Same old Momma ! ” said Baconfat almost rev- 
erently. “ They don’t come any better than that.” 

They strolled out in the quadrangle looking for 
Tait, but not finding him, joined the crowd in the 
cloisters. 

Philip sat silent, gazing over the stretch of fields 
beneath him. 

“ What’s the matter with you ? ” Bacon asked at 
last. “ Homesick ? ” 

“ No, indeed.” Philip roused himself. “ I was 
thinking that I’d rather be like Momma Welsh 
than any one else. Everybody likes him and 
looks up to him. He stands for the best.” 

2 7 


PHILIP KENT 


“ Yes,” agreed his companion. “ And there is 
nothing stuck up about him either. He’s just as 
simple and friendly as if he wasn’t cock of the 
school.” 

“ I wonder if the lower school will ever look up 
to us when we are in the sixth,” mused Philip, 
chin on hand. “ It seems a funny idea some- 
how.” 

Bacon chuckled. “ I’m not worrying about that 
as yet. It’s too far off. I can’t see it anyway. 
Imagine a lot of kids kow-towing to us the way 
they do to Momma.” 

“ Well,” returned Philip with a wisdom beyond 
his years, “ it may seem a long way to look forward 
to, but I don’t believe it will seem so long looking 
back.” 

Then, as the reflective mood left him, he jumped 
up, pulled Bacon’s hat over his eyes and then 
thoughtlessly stretched himself. The mark was 
too tempting and Bacon retaliated for the indig- 
nity with a dig in the unprotected surface. 

“ Ouch 1 ” Philip quickly recovered from his 
laziness. “That was a mean trick.” 

“ Serves you right. Cool off now,” Bacon 
warned. “ I don’t want to fool. Here comes 
Jack, anyway. Hi, there!” he called. 

Jack Tait had broadened considerably during 
the vacation. His figure gave promise of no 
28 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

great size, but it was well knit. Philip looked 
him over critically. This was the one boy in his 
form whom he regarded as a possible rival when 
he dreamed his dreams of being head of the school. 
They were natural rivals. Both ambitious ; both 
above the average in their mental and physical 
equipment ; the germ of leadership had begun to 
mark them as different from the others in the 
class. Neither would be satisfied for long in 
second place. 

The methods used in their fight for independ- 
ence, which after all is the first indication of 
budding powers of leadership, were almost start- 
lingly different. 

Tait, the more polished of the two, the less self- 
conscious, was inclined to secure his ends by first 
ingratiating himself with those who could advance 
his interests. In doing so he was not, at this 
stage of his development, above deliberately trying 
to please at any cost to his own convictions. He 
felt sufficiently sure of his own strength of purpose 
to avoid the pitfalls of the toady, though he had 
in the previous year come perilously close to that 
undesirable condition, and had in fact been taken 
to task by no less a personage than Momma Welsh. 

Philip, on the other hand, by nature self-con- 
scious, brusque, and somewhat obstinate, en- 
deavored to attain his aim by an independent 
29 


PHILIP KENT 


attitude from the start. He recognized no master 
willingly, and thanks to an attack of obstinacy, had 
been “ sent to Coventry ” by George Hart of the 
sixth when he refused to black the latter’s boots. 
He had come to school with the thought firmly 
fixed in his mind that certain forms of hazing 
were to be resisted at no matter what risk. 
Service to his elders he would yield, but service 
which seemed to him beyond the right of the old 
boys to demand he would not render ; and, getting 
to be known as a youngster who, though obstinate 
and at times actuated by principles beyond the 
comprehension of the easy-going members of his 
form, lived up to certain well-defined rules of con- 
duct, he captured a certain following among the 
boys of his age and earned the grudging respect 
of the upper school. 

Between Philip and Jack Tait there had been 
early in the previous year what amounted at best 
to an armed truce, at worst to open warfare, but 
as they came to know each other’s point of view 
the animosity dwindled until when school broke 
up in the spring a certain tolerance if not actual 
friendship had sprung up between them. 

In addition, the summer months had intervened, 
and served to obliterate the old antagonism, so 
Philip was as glad to see Jack as the latter was to 
see Philip. 


30 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


It was not many days before the four friends 
who had ruled Dormitory A had established their 
supremacy in their new quarters and were plan- 
ning the various schemes which would make the 
duller moments of school life more lively. 

Football, of course, claimed their attention at 
once. Not only was there the practice of the 
school team to watch and comment on every 
afternoon, but the practice of the teams of the two 
clubs into which the school was divided, Ionians 
and Corinthians, kept them busily employed. 
Each club put four teams in the field. The 
rivalry was intense, and there was no surer way 
of securing the condemnation of one’s fellows than 
by showing a disposition to shirk the practice. 
New boys were given no choice of clubs. They 
were divided equally and in the way that relative 
strength was held generally equal. Bacon and 
Tait were Ionians ; Philip and The Minute Corin- 
thians. The rivalry on the field did not affect the 
roots of their friendship, but at times, particularly 
after a hard-fought game, surface indications 
showed strains. 

Philip took to football instinctively, and what 
was even better, so far as his improvement in the 
game was concerned, spared no pains to perfect 
himself in the minor but essential fundamentals 
of the sport. He had learned how to retrieve a 
3i 


PHILIP KENT 

fumble ; now he set about practicing the forward 
pass. 

The early days passed quickly and out of the 
jumbled mass of boys trying for the various 
teams, the patient coaches began to mould a fin- 
ished product. Philip to his delight found him- 
self assigned as substitute to the second Corin- 
thian team. Baconfat was playing on the third. 
Encouraged by this advancement, Philip perfected 
himself in the signals and redoubled his efforts to 
acquire the forward pass. His reward came after 
the first game in which his team had been beaten. 
Philip had remained on the side lines, impatient 
to get into the play, and exposed to the jeers of 
Bacon, whose team did not play until later. 

“ Smarty ! ” he said. “ Thought you were hot 
stuff, didn’t you, making the second? I don’t 
see *much fun in cooling my heels on the side 
lines. I’d rather be in the game.” 

“ Sour grapes ! ” retorted Philip contemptuously, 
who had no time to waste on repartee when his 
team was being beaten. He was not as yet 
enough of a strategist to pick out from the mass 
of detail the particular points in which the Cor- 
inthian was weak. But it was evident to the 
most scientific observer that though neither team 
could gain consistently through the line, the Ioni- 
ans possessed a forward passing attack which de- 
32 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


moralized their opponents, and which the latter 
could in no way duplicate. 

“ Rotten work,” Philip muttered fiercely, as for 
the second time in succession Manville, the Cor- 
inthian quarter-back, attempted a pass without 
success. On each occasion the ball fell un- 
touched to the ground. Unable to advance con- 
sistently by running plays and entirely unable to 
make a successful pass or defend against the accu- 
rate work of the Ionians, the Corinthians were 
being rapidly overwhelmed. Touch-down after 
touch-down was scored against them. 

Finally Carter, the captain of the Corinthians, 
in disgust sent Manville to the side lines, and 
called for Philip. 

11 See here, Kent,” he said as Philip, frantically 
pulling off his sweater, hurried on the field. “ We 
can’t win this game. It’s gone. So you might 
as well get some practice. Let’s see what you can 
do.” 

Philip knew that there were but a few minutes 
left to play ; knew the team behind him knew it 
was beaten and therefore disorganized. The con- 
ditions were not favorable for making a good im- 
pression, but he threw himself into the play with 
enthusiasm. 

The ball was in the possession of the Corin- 
thians ; but eighty yards lay between them and a 
33 


PHILIP KENT 


score. Philip scratched his head as he stood be- 
hind his center. 

“ The only chance to score is by forward pass- 
ing, he said to himself. “ If I can get off one or 
two successfully it will keep us in the game, any- 
way.” 

He snapped out his signal. It was an elaborately 
concealed forward pass. His team gasped when 
it heard it ; the other side gasped when the play 
was successful. A clean gain of twenty yards. 
Philip had passed the ball fast and true to the 
proper spot. 

“ Good work, Kent,” called Carter enthusias- 
tically. “ That’s the stuff.” 

The game ended without further scoring, but 
Philip had made two successful passes out of three 
attempts, and was content. There was some good 
in practicing after all. The next day Manville 
stood on the side lines and Philip became a regu- 
lar. 

This recognition of his ability had the odd ef- 
fect of turning Philip’s head, not with regard to 
football but in his relations with his form. He 
was almost humble in his attitude to the older 
boys, whose superior knowledge of the game he 
recognized, a knowledge which he realized, so 
closely had he already studied the possibilities of 
the sport, came only with years of actual experi- 
34 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


ence. Natural ability was much ; hard work was 
an asset, but he accepted as final the judgment 
that only experience added to the others would 
round out and give the technique to his play 
which would place him in the first rank. Know- 
ing this, he was modest of these early successes ; 
but since the displacement of Manville made him 
stand out from his fellows, he was naturally ac- 
corded a certain deference. Philip accepted the 
deference, but not connecting it with his suc- 
cess in football, put it down as due to his person- 
ality. 

Philip’s success with the forward pass was not 
a flash in the pan. The fact that on every pos- 
sible occasion he kept a football with him and 
hurled it to whatever companion happened to be 
with him, developed in him a skill which no one 
else in the squad could equal. His position was 
secure. 

The bad start his team had made was overcome 
in the next game, and when the final week of 
practice had passed and the last game scheduled 
for the morrow, Philip felt no fear of the out- 
come. 

“ If you win to-morrrow,” said The Minute, “ it 
will probably give us the cup. The first team is 
pretty sure to win its last game. It outclasses the 
first Ionian/’ 


35 


PHILIP KENT 


“ How does it stand ? ” asked Philip, who, lying 
at ease on his bed, was waiting for the last bell. 

The Minute turned into his alcove and reap- 
peared with a game schedule. “ Let’s see,” he 
said, as he straightened the paper on his knee. 
“ First Corinthian has a clean slate. That’s two 
points. Your team has made an even break so 
far. One point for each. The fourth Corinthian 
has lost all three.” 

“ Poor work, Rodney,” commented Philip. 
“ You should have won that last game.” 

“ I know we should,” agreed Rodney humbly. 
“ If we hadn’t mixed a signal that last play when 
we had the ball on their five yard line we should 
have nosed them out.” 

“ Moral ! Don’t miss signals,” said Philip 
loftily. “ Well ? What does that make it ? ” 

“ Our side three; Ionians four. The third teams 
split even ; a victory apiece and a tie. That gives 
them a point and a half each. Score 4h to 5i. 
Give us the sure point for the first team and it’s a 
tie. Yes, if you win to-morrow, the Corinthians 
take the cup. Think you’ll do it?” concluded 
The Minute anxiously. 

“ Yes,” said Philip with such conviction that 
the last doubt vanished from The Minute’s heart. 

Certain members of the school team on their 
way to practice paused the next day at the lower 
36 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


school field to watch the earnest struggle then in 
progress. 

“ The kids are playing for blood, that's certain," 
remarked Judson, as he watched a plunge on the 
center of the line waver and come to a sudden halt 
as the secondary defense hurled itself at the threat- 
ened point. “ What's the score ? " 

The Minute was crouched on the side lines, his 
slight body aquiver with interest and his face 
aglow. He turned at the question. 

“ No score yet," he volunteered. “ Middle of 
third quarter. It's an awfully close game." 

The lower school, realizing that the fate of the 
championship probably depended on the game, 
had turned out in force, and the adherents of the 
rival clubs, lost to all sense of restraint in the 
absence of the cheer leaders who at the school 
games preserved decorum, were howling them- 
selves red in the face in their endeavor to encour- 
age the players. 

“ Let's watch this a while, Momma. It's quite 
exciting." 

“ All right, Wilcox," agreed the other, settling 
himself on the grass. “ We’ll postpone practice 
for the present. It's a good chance to get a line 
on the young material." 

“ I see your young protege of last year has 
evidently made good." 


3 7 


PHILIP KENT 

“ Kent ? ' inquired Momma. “ Yes, he's some 
boy. He ought to be very good in a couple of 
years. He loves the game.” 

“ He is pretty good already,” ejaculated 
Judson. 

“ Did you see that pass ? ” 

“ A good thirty yards.” 

“ Had speed, too.” 

Philip had begun to open the game and take 
chances on a long pass succeeding. The pass 
failed ; an Ionian back had knocked the ball down 
just as his opponent reached for it. But the 
Corinthians were jubilant. It had almost suc- 
ceeded. 

The quarter ended without score, and Momma 
Welsh turned toward the school field. “ Come 
on, fellows, it is getting late.” 

“ Oh, wait a minute,” pleaded Wilcox. “ I want 
to see the end of this. It's a relief to see some 
one else working.” 

“ If you feel that way,” said Momma, “ I imagine 
I can accommodate you. I can put the Knuckle 
Spreader in your place, and give you a permanent 
berth on the side lines.” 

“ No, thanks, Momma,” returned Wilcox, scram- 
bling to his feet in a hurry. “ I think I'll hold 
down my job a while longer, with your per- 
mission.” 


38 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“Seriously though/’ continued the other, “Joe 
French is playing mighty well this year. He 
weighs a hundred and seventy. He’s going to 
make somebody hustle for his job. And I’m glad 
to see it, too. It’s a bad influence to have positions 
settled early in the season. It has been the cause 
of defeat of many a promising team.” 

“ Look,” interrupted Judson, who had been 
keeping an eye on the game. “ He pulled it off 
that time. It looks like a score.” 

Momma gazed intently across the field. “ It is 
if he hurries. He’ll have to be quick. Use your 
arm. Now ! Hard. That’s the way. Pretty 
work.” He was so interested that he did not 
realize he had been talking aloud until Judson 
laughed at him. 

“ I thought he would be tackled then, surely. 
The straight arm was all that saved him.” 

“ He was slow getting started after he caught 
the pass,” commented Judson. “ He had the 
chance to get clear away.” 

“ Who was it ? ” 

“ Carter, I think. Hi, there, Rodney Moore, 
who made that touch-down ? ” 

“ Carter, the captain,” flung back The Minute, 
interrupting his cheering just long enough to 
make answer. 

“ Well, I guess that wins the game,” said Momma 
39 


PHILIP KENT 

turning away. “ We’ve seen the best of it. Come 
along.” 

“That shows how important the forward pass 
is,” remarked Judson as they left the crowd be- 
hind. “ It is always possible to break up the 
game with it. I’m glad to see we are developing 
some one who can use it. That’s where we are 
weak this year, Momma.” 

“ I know it,” agreed the latter with a frown. 
“ And it worries me. However, so far as I can 
learn, Windsor hasn’t any star performer in that 
line either, so it’s not as bad as it might be. Oh, 
Mr. Patterson, may I see you for a moment ? ” and 
Momma hurried off for a talk with the master 
who taught history during school hours, and foot- 
ball in playtime. 

On the lower field the game drew to a close. 
The Ionians were beaten ; the championship was 
won. 

Philip started to give a signal, saw the time- 
keeper rush, and stopped. 

“ It’s over ! ” he said with a sigh of weariness. 

“ We win I We win ! ” yelled the excited Min- 
ute, rushing on the field. “ We did beat them, 
didn’t we ! ” he reiterated in Philip’s ear. 

“ I told you we would,” said Philip. 


40 


CHAPTER III 


GETTING EVEN 

“ I am out to make the team my fourth form 
year.” 

“ It has hardly ever been done, Phil,” objected 
The Minute. 

“ I know that,” retorted Philip and gazed 
thoughtfully at the sky. He was sitting propped 
against a tree, revelling in the warm November 
sunshine which filtered through the bare branches, 
and, his thoughts far away in the future, had 
spoken his determination alpud almost without 
realizing that he had given expression to them. 

“ It sounds cocky, Rod, for me to talk that 
way,” he went on half apologetically. “ I didn’t 
really mean to say it. But it is what I was think- 
ing, and I mean it. I put my goal at nothing less 
than the school team, fourth form year.” 

“ You’ll have to grow some,” remarked Rodney 
dispassionately. 

Philip laughed. “ You are not very encourag- 
ing, old top,” he said. “ Don’t you think I have 
any chance ? ” 


4i 


PHILIP KENT 


“ Well ” Rodney was evidently non- 

plused. 

“ All right for you, you doubter. Just remem- 
ber what I say, though. ” 

The football season had closed some weeks be- 
fore this conversation with a sweeping victory 
over Malvern’s old rival. The Windsor team had 
been outclassed. After the string of defeats that 
had been the portion of the Blue and White, 
broken the year before for the first time, this 
contest had caused so much excitement that 
Philip, though he had not seen the game, had his 
ambition to excel more than ever aroused by the 
hysterical welcome the school had given the vic- 
torious team on its return from Windsor. Un- 
consciously Philip had taken the one sure road of 
success. 

Determine early in life what you desire to ac- 
complish ; keep this purpose always before you 
and if Fate has given you average intelligence and 
ability nothing can keep you from reaching the 
top of the ladder. Many a more gifted individ- 
ual, who lacks singleness of purpose, will be strug- 
gling meanwhile on the lower rungs for a medi- 
ocre success. 

His companion, however, was not impressed. 
The football season was a thing of the past, and 
therefore an unprofitable subject of conversation. 

42 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“ What I want to know,” said The Minute, “ is 
how we are going to amuse ourselves between now 
and the holidays ? ” 

“We ought to have some snow before long.” 
Philip cocked a wise eye at the sky. “ Looks as 
though a storm might be brewing now. See those 
mare’s tails. Wind’s in the east. That will bring 
you your amusement. I am just aching to get at 
some of those new boys with some nice icy snow- 
balls.” 

“ Pay ’em up for what you got last year ? ” 

“ That’s the idea exactly,” agreed Philip with 
gusto. “ Cocking up 1 is the very best method of 
teaching a fellow the soft parts of his anatomy 
that I have ever run across.” 

“ You don’t forget, either,” affirmed Rodney 
with a reminiscent shiver which had something 
of pleasure in it, thanks to the knowledge that he 
was exempt. 

“ You certainly do not,” agreed Philip with 
conviction. “ I look forward with great pleasure 
to initiating our unfortunate friend in No. 13.” 

Philip proved an unusual weather prophet. 
He had guessed correctly. When the school 
awoke the next morning, it was to a world of 
driving snow, a good part of which, it seemed, was 

1 “ Cocking up,” — a form of hazing in which the victim is placed 
against a wall in a stooping position and is pelted with snowballs. 

43 


PHILIP KENT 


deposited in a neat pile on the floor of each alcove 
whose window had been left open. Philip, for 
one, landed with both bare feet in a peculiarly 
cold pile. 

“ Wow ! ” he exclaimed, drawing his extremities 
back to bed without loss of time, as though he 
had come in contact with a hot griddle. “ What’s 
all this 1 ” When his sleepy brain recognized 
what was happening outdoors, which took but 
the time necessary for a glance at the window en- 
crusted with snowflakes, he promptly woke the 
dormitory with a loud yell and a swiftly driven 
snowball which smacked against the iron doors 
with a reverberating clang. 

“ Snow ! Snow ! Beautiful snow ! ” he chanted, 
and deposited a double handful of the slushy ma- 
terial over the intervening wall of No. 13. 

The dormitory sprang to life with yells of joy, 
and only the repressing appearance of Mr. Richard- 
son prevented an immediate snow fight. Balked 
at this pleasure, no time was lost in dressing, and 
Philip and Bacon descended to the lower level, 
where they unwisely opened a door, only to be 
driven back sputtering from the icy wind. 

“ Phew ! ” 

They shut the door with difficulty and retired 
to the schoolroom and spent the few moments be- 
fore breakfast adding to the fears of the new boys, 
44 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


who tried to laugh the matter off, but whose 
bravest resolves could not prevent an occasional 
glance outdoors, or the resulting impression that 
snow was after all a very unnecessary and much- 
to-be-avoided phenomenon of nature. 

It snowed all the morning, but at lunch time the 
storm departed, the clouds went on their way and 
a beaming sun melted the upper layer of the snow- 
fall just enough to make snowballing possible. 

The call of “ slate ” found Philip a member of an 
eager crowd, moccasined, mitted and toqued, wait- 
ing outside the door. Many of the new boys had 
found it strangely convenient to commit some 
breach of school-rules that morning and the school- 
room was crowded with those detained by the 
hand of authority, but there were enough victims 
remaining to provide sport, and the executioners 
greeted each new arrival with cheers as he was led 
to the block, otherwise known as the schoolhouse 
wall, where he was instructed in the proper posi- 
tion to assume. 

“ Smack I Smack ! Thud ! ” 

The smacks were snowballs plastering them- 
selves against the bricks ; the thud was the impact 
of ice against flesh. 

The victims squirmed. 

Momma Welsh was supervising the proceedings 
with a watchful eye, lest any boy receive more 
45 


PHILIP KENT 


than his share from the growing excitement of the 
crowd, and his “ That's enough, Jones,” 11 That 
will do for you, Martin,” sounded gratefully on 
straining ears. 

“ This isn't punishment, remember,” he said to 
Wilcox, who hinted that he was spoiling the fun, 
“ it’s discipline. Three hits is enough for anybody 
to take the first time. If it's a question of fresh- 
ness, that's another matter.” 

“ They weren’t so gentle in our time,” grumbled 
Wilcox. 

“ No,” retorted Momma, “ and as a result it was 
mighty brutal. I meant to call a halt last year, 
even more than I did. There is no sense in hurt- 
ing the kids.” 

Philip took his turn at flinging the icy snow- 
balls, but was surprised to find that it did not 
amuse him half so much as he had expected. “ If 
I could throw at the boys who put me up last 
year,” he thought to himself, “ it would have 
more point to it.” Which showed incidentally that 
he was far from appreciating Momma’s attitude 
toward the ceremony. 

Much to Bacon's disgust, he insisted on leaving 
the scene while there were yet many victims to be 
properly initiated. “ What did you leave for ? ” 
Baconfat asked impatiently. “ You don't know 
anything about the fine points yet. I wanted to 
46 



C ( 


y y 


let me have a shot at you 



















. • 





















































' 











IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


show you the knee hit. That's the one that gets 
them. It hurts like blazes — I know." 

“ So do I," retorted Philip. “ Do you think 
they neglected that spot last year? In fact," he 
turned suddenly on his companion, “ you talk so 
knowingly about it, I'll wager you caught me one 
or two there yourself." 

Bacon sniggered. “ I hope so," he said. “ I 
tried hard enough. The only trouble with that 
shot, however," he reflected regretfully, “ is that 
you waste so many snowballs to make a hit. 
It takes mighty good shooting to get a bull's- 
eye." 

“ You old brute," commented Philip. “ Let me 
have a shot at you." 

“ Nothing doing." Bacon shook his head. 
“ You’ll never get a chance at me." 

“ Well, if I'm not allowed to even up last year’s 
scores, I don't see much fun in taking them out 
on a lot of kids." 

Bacon nodded his head approvingly. “ You’ll 
get over that feeling. That's the way I looked at 
it at first. Wait till March comes along with nice 
melting snow ; and when you have accumulated 
one or two grudges against some fresh chaps, 
you'll find it a very satisfactory way of suppressing 
bumptiousness." 

“ We'll wait till March comes," said Philip 
4 7 


PHILIP KENT 

shortly. “ At present there is nothing in it. 
Come along.” 

There was an unprecedented fall of snow that 
winter. From the first snowfall in November 
hardly a week passed without an additional storm, 
so that by the time the school had returned from 
its Christmas holidays there was no possibility of 
anything but snow sports keeping the attention of 
the individual, so long as he remained outdoors. 

Philip, with the recollection of the hard race 
Which he had given the sixth formers the previous 
winter, left no stone unturned to prepare the bob- 
sled, which he owned in common with his three 
intimates, for the races which the school already 
looked forward to as an annual fixture. There 
was much bantering between the teams who ex- 
pected to take part in the race ; much teasing 
by the older boys of those whom they called “ up- 
starts ” for thinking that by any chance they 
could repeat the success of their first form year. 

Philip took it all good-naturedly ; answered back 
when his tormentors were not of the upper school, 
and observed a discreet silence when the over- 
lords of his little world condescended to attempt 
to ruffle his confidence. Nevertheless, when, with 
his ears well buried in a white and blue toque, his 
mittened hands thrust snugly into his pockets, he 
strode across country with Baconfat on snow-shoes, 
48 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


or, with lights out, cuddled under a quilt while 
perched on The Minute’s bed, there was no lack of 
confidence in his tone as he discussed the pros- 
pects for their sled the “ Mosquito.’ 1 

“ We’ve learned a lot since last year,” he would 
say, “ and we’ve gained the thing we were most 
lacking in — that is, weight. We should have no 
trouble in getting over the flat this year, and if 
we keep the old bob’s nose on a straight course, I 
see no reason why we shouldn’t finish in first 
place.” He always ended by hugging himself in 
anticipation of such a victory. 

Even Jack Tait, who, since he had been deposed 
as steersman in the previous race had taken the 
matter coolly, regained some of his original en- 
thusiasm under the constant prodding of his com- 
panions. 

The Minute was, as usual, a bundle of nerves 
and eagerness ; he needed no prodding. 

The only one of his team-mates who tried Philip’s 
soul was Baconfat, who seemed determined to lose 
not an ounce of the precious avoirdupois which he 
had gained by eating three large meals a day dur- 
ing the holidays. “ What’s the use,” he would 
say when Philip reopened the subject, “of nagging 
the life out of a fellow ? You only use me as bal- 
last, anyway. The more I eat the more use I will 
be to you.” 


49 


PHILIP KENT 


Philip grinned. “ There are occasions, Bacon- 
fat, n he said with a chuckle, “ when you really 
speak the truth.” 

For Philip this was an unfortunate remark to 
have made at that precise moment, as he was 
standing balanced on the edge of a snow-drift, and 
Bacon, with the least possible endeavor, was able to 
topple him head foremost into it. 

When Philip had removed the snow from his 
eyes, nose and ears, had satisfactorily washed Ba- 
con’s face, and quiet was once more restored, he, in 
no wise daunted, continued the attack. u It is all 
very well to say you are nothing but ballast, but 
unless you come out and practice, or we put a load 
of stones in your place, I won’t be able to steer the 
old bob straight. We can’t give away any time 
on that corner, you know ; we must shave it by 
an eyelash, and your weight on the bob makes 
the steering an entirely different matter from the 
steering when you are not there and lolling on 
a high stool down at Mr. Mack’s sucking up soda 
water.” 

By dint of constant work of this kind Philip 
managed to get his crew out on the Red Mill Hill 
with some regularity, and though he had no stop 
watch by which to gauge his speed, and as, in fact, 
the condition of the snow varying from day to 
day, even such a test would have been of but com- 
50 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


parative value, he believed that the sled was trav- 
eling faster with each day’s practice. 

As the race day approached, however, he found 
that it was not a question of beating one or two 
sleds, but of half a dozen, so much had the sport 
appealed to the school. 

“ It’s a big entry list,” he said to The Minute, as 
he scanned the bulletin board one evening before 
chapel. “ Let’s see — six, eight, ten. We have 
our work cut out for us.” 

“ Gee,” said The Minute with fervor, “ just 
think if we should come out ahead. Is there any- 
thing I can do? Do you want me to wax the 
runners some more?” he added, impulsively. 

Philip threw an affectionate arm around his 
small comrade’s shoulder. “ Not on your life,” he 
said ; “ you’ve done more than your share of the 
work already. It won’t be your fault if we have 
to take a licking.” 

“ Well, ‘ Mosquitoes,’ ” said a deep voice behind 
him, “ are you counting already what the prize 
money will buy in the way of soda water? ” 

The two friends turned guiltily, to look up into 
the smiling face of Momma Welsh. He looked down 
quizzically on the second formers from his six feet 
of height and then, with a teasing laugh : “ Why, 
I really believe the youngsters think they are 
going to lick me this year.” 

5i 


PHILIP KENT 


“ We’re going to try, Momma,” piped up The 
Minute. 

“ Go to it,” said Momma, genially, as he passed 
on to the sixth form room, “ but don’t imagine 
that I shall hold you lightly this year. I’m going 
to shave that corner myself.” 

“ That sounds dangerous,” remarked Philip, 
with a tight lip, and for the first time the possibil- 
ity of defeat was borne in on him. 

The school, of course, as a whole, backed the 
“ Flying Fish,” for with Momma in the race the 
chances of others looked small. Wilcox, however, 
was reported by the rail-birds, who braved cold 
feet by lining the course every afternoon in order 
to get the latest knowledge of the various contest- 
ants, as making fast time. 

Joe French had persuaded three of his cronies 
to invest in a sled, and was rated highly by some 
of the talent, but, as Baconfat said, “ They won’t 
win. The Knuckle Spreader’s crew are so much 
afraid he’ll give them a licking if they don’t win 
that they’ll shake with fright in going around the 
corner, and upset.” 

But aside from all popularity or speed shown in 
practice, the race was conceded, by the lower 
school at least, to be between the “ Flying Fish ” 
and the “ Mosquitoes.” 

The condition of the snow claimed the attention 
52 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

of everybody without exception. Did a thaw set 
in, there was a general wail of dismay. Did it 
look threatening to snow, equal gloom settled 
over the school, for even the steel runners of a 
bob-sled cannot make progress through unpacked 
snow. Fortunately, for three weeks, though there 
had been many snow-storms, none had taken on 
the character of a blizzard, and under the constant 
daily friction of the practicing sleds, the Red Mill 
Hill had acquired a glassy surface, which nothing 
short of a general thaw, or a raging blizzard, could 
have impaired. Luck was with the school. 

When Philip hopped into bed the night before 
the race, his final glance at the sky showed it 
vacant of clouds, and the shimmering steel stars 
glittered a promise of crisp weather for the morn- 
ing. And so it proved. 

When “ slate ” 1 had been read and the crew 
dragged their bob-sleds from the gymnasium after 
the last anxious overhauling and polishing of the 
runners, the snow crunched under foot with the 
satisfying sound which indicated that the course 
would be in perfect condition. 

“ Some mob,” said Tait, tersely, as they arrived 
at the top of the hill and looked down the course 
to see the banks of the road thronged with spec- 
tators — spectators who were not only of the school 

1 The record of penalties. 

53 


PHILIP KENT 


— for the neighboring town had decided that the 
occasion was one not to be missed, and on foot or 
by sleigh had sent forth a multitude. 

Mr. Richardson, who had consented to act as 
starter, lost no time in getting the crews away. 
After an exchange of signals with the watcher at 
the bend, who relayed them to the finish, he 
called the Knuckle Spreader’s bob to the line. 

“ Are you ready ? ” he called, pistol in hand. 

“ All ready,” was the answer. 

“ On your marks. Set.” Crack . 

As the pistol spoke, the Knuckle Spreader’s 
crew jumped, and the bob, ever gathering head- 
way, started down the slope. 


54 


CHAPTER IV 


HARD LUCK 

It was followed by critical comments from the 
remaining crews. 

“ Rotten,” said Baconfat. “ He could have 
taken three feet off that corner. What did I tell 
you ? ” 

The “ Mosquitoes ” were seventh on the list, 
and therefore had many minutes in which to grow 
excited. The race was being conducted under the 
same plans as the previous year — one sled to start 
at a time ; each sled to run three courses ; the 
time made in the three attempts to be averaged, 
and the best average to take the cup. A special 
prize had been offered by Mr. Patterson for the 
fastest single run. This the “ Mosquitoes ” had 
won the previous year, and were determined on 
this occasion not only to repeat that feat, but also 
to win the championship. 

The second bob, noting the loss of time which 
the Knuckle Spreader had suffered by steering 
wide of the curve, hugged it so closely that, amid 
groans of derision, it upset and its disgruntled 
55 


PHILIP KENT 

crew walked up the hill again, a target for caustic 
remarks. 

“ We don't want to do that," warned Tait. 
“ That mistake has put them out of the fun en- 
tirely." 

“ That's true," said Philip, “ but as I told you 
last night, we’re not in this thing for our health. 
I'm not going to give way an inch." 

Tait looked dubious at this announcement, but 
held his tongue. 

Momma had number three. He took the 
corner in a way that meant business, and when, a 
few moments later, word came back that his time 
was forty seconds flat, Baconfat groaned, though 
his sporting instinct made the groan end in a 
cheer. 

“ That beats our time last year," said The Min- 
ute nervously, leaning forward from his position 
on the bob and gripping Philip’s arm. 

“ Sure it does," said Philip confidently, “ but 
the course is easily two seconds faster. Last year 
the flat was soft, don't you remember, and this 
year it is solid ice. That time doesn't mean any- 
thing ; we'll better that easily." 

“Just listen to the ‘ Mosquitoes ' buzzing," jeered 
Wilcox. “ I never heard such a cocky lot in my 
life. I think we'll have to pull your stings for 
you," and in a smother of snow he was off. 

56 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


More bobs vanished around the curve, and then 
turn had come. Philip settled himself firmly in 
the steersman’s seat ; saw that his tiller was in 
working order ; made Tait try out the brake, and 
nodded to the starter. 

So far, Momma’s time of forty seconds flat was 
the best time that had been recorded, and as the 
11 Mosquitoes ” faced the starting point, a cheer 
went up from those members of the lower school 
who pinned their faith on the second formers. 
Philip’s nerves were keyed to the breaking point. 
He glanced down the course to make sure that all 
was clear ; saw the flagman stationed at the danger- 
ous curve ; studied the angle at which he expected 
to take it, and then for a moment his eyes blurred 
in the keen wind as his bob slid down the icy hill. 
Faster and faster they went. Their speed as they 
approached the corner seemed terrific, for Philip 
had given strict orders to Tait not to use the brake 
unless ordered to do so, and Philip, in his inner- 
most soul, had decided not to call for brakes at all. 

Now the corner loomed close. He twisted at 
the tiller. “ Lean,” he shouted, “ lean.” In re- 
sponse to his voice the crew swung their bodies to 
take the curve. The bob responded to the change 
of gravity, Philip aiding it with might and main 
with the tiller. 

At the critical moment, when the bob was poised 
5 7 


PHILIP KENT 

perilously at an angle, the off front runn^' eaugi 
for a moment in a small rut. Philip ya ced de 
perately at the tiller. The rut was sn 
Philip's yank was big. The runner jumped 
quickly from the rut, the front sled turned sharply 
at an angle, and crew and bob-sled — and the hop* - 
of the lower school — lay piled up in the di ,ch. 

For a moment there was absolute silen The 
tragedy was too big to be appreciated in a moment. 
Then as the nearest bystanders came to their as- 
sistance, the full realization of the ending of their 
hopes was borne in to the four snow-covered figures, 
and they sprang to their feet. The “ Mosquito ” 
lay bottom up, a shattered wreck. One runner 
was twisted and another broken short off. It 
would take much repairing before the “ Mosquito ” 
would be ready for another race. 

“ What did I tell you ? ” said Tait disgustedly, as 
he faced around at his late steersman. “ I told 
you to look out for that corner. I knew you were 
taking it too short. We’ve lost the championship, 
the time prize and everything, and it’s all your 
fault.” 

The Minute didn’t say anything, but t e looked 
at his leader with a woebegone countenance. 

Philip replied hotly to Tait’s attac k “ It 
wasn’t my fault,” he said. “ Something caught. 
I think we were in a rut. I tried to get her out 
58 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


and then I don’t know what happened. The first 
thing I knew we were in the ditch.” 

“ It wouldn’t have happened if you had steered 
wider.” Tait was not to be silenced. 

“ It might have happened anyway,” persisted 
Philip. “ You talk this way because you wouldn’t 
care if we had been licked. I’d rather smash up 
than get licked.” 

“ Well, then,” said Tait with a sneer, “ you 
ought to be perfectly happy. You’ve certainly 
smashed up, all right, and you seem to forget that 
part of that bob belongs to me. Who’s going to 
pay for fixing it up ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Bacon, with visions of a curtailed 
allowance of soda water, 11 that’s going to be an 
expensive job.” 

“ Rot,” said Philip angrily ; “ you’re short sports, 
both of you and that’s the way you feel about 
it I’ll pay for it myself.” 

“ Oh, no, you won’t,” said Tait. “ I’m going to 
P" y my share, but as long as we are in this thing 
on shares, you have no right to spoil our fun with 
your bull-headedness. You’ve been so cock-sure 
of late that u,nything you turn your hand to you 
are going to win at, that there is no living with you.” 

“ Yes,” said Baconfat, “ there is something in 
what Jack says. After all, it isn’t a killing matter 
if we have lost the race.” 


59 


PHILIP KENT 


Sick at heart, Philip turned away and knelt 
beside the splintered bob. Furiously angry at his 
companions, who, according to his view, had shown 
poor sportsmanship ; heart-broken at the loss of the 
race, he nevertheless did not question his own 
judgment in having taken the corner so sharply, 
or in having failed to steer more skilfully at the 
critical moment. 

It was luck that was against them, and no boy 
could be responsible for hard luck. He turned 
the sled right side up, hitched the rope over his 
shoulder, and started gloomily up the hill, keep- 
ing to the ditch so as not to interfere with the 
descending racers. The Minute took hold behind 
him, and after a moment of disgusted following in 
the rear of the procession, the other two joined in 
and helped to haul their disabled craft homeward. 

The “ Mosquitoes’ ” disgruntled crew had no more 
than deposited their disabled sled in the basement 
of the gymnasium, changed their wet clothes for a 
dry outfit and descended to the schoolroom than 
the foremost of the returning crowd engulfed them 
in a chorus of gibes and sympathy. 

“ Hard luck, ‘ Mosquitoes,’ ” said Wilcox, still 
puffing from his exertions. “ But there were 
others.” 

‘‘Did some one else upset?” asked Philip 
eagerly. 


60 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“ Rather ! The Knuckle Spreader spread- 
eagled himself and his crew on the second time 

down ” 

“ Who won ? ” 

“ Oh, Momma, of course,” said Wilcox. “ He 
cleaned the slate. Best average ; fastest course — 

everything. The rest were nowhere ” 

“ Well,” said Philip as he turned away, “ that 
makes me feel a little better.” 

The coolness which resulted from the accident 
lasted for some days, and the new boys for the 
first time found Philip an irritable customer when 
they ran athwart him. After all his boasting, to 
have come to grief in the first heat at the curve 
which he had pretended to despise was too good a 
joke for the lower school to pass over in silence, and 
Philip had to put up with many covert remarks 
as to the picture he made standing on his head in 
a snow-drift. He could answer back the boys of 
his own age, and when they annoyed him too much, 
could hold his end up in the resulting set-to and 
relieve his mind in this manner. But when Wil- 
cox or another of the upper school exercised their 
wits at his expense, he could only bottle up his 
wrath and try to conceal his rising color and walk 
away. Rage which cannot express itself turns 
sour, and Philip was no longer the life of the 
dormitory. On the other hand, he began to take 
61 


PHILIP KENT 


delight in hazing George Norton, whom he had 
more or less left alone after his first exercise of his 
old boy rights. 

Except for his constant and uncontrollable 
habit of blushing, Norton was an inoffensive in- 
dividual and had fitted into the little niche in the 
school where nobody bothered him, and from 
which he emerged only to gain the approval of 
his masters by invariably knowing his lessons for 
the day. 

“ There’s an awful noise around this dormitory 
in the morning,” said Philip truculently one day, 
as he stood in his doorway putting on a clean col- 
lar. “ Something, or somebody, wakes me up be- 
fore th.e first bell.” He announced this to the 
dormitory at large, but then pulled Norton’s cur- 
tain aside and walked in on him. “ I wonder if 
it’s you,” he said. Norton immediately blushed. 
“ What time do you get up — before the first 
bell?” 

“ Why, yes, generally,” said Norton confusedly. 
“ I didn’t know it disturbed anybody.” 

Philip looked at him amazedly. “ You get up 
before the first bell, do you? Will you be 
kind enough to tell me for what possible pur- 
pose anybody wants to get out of bed before he 
has to? ” 

“ Why,” said Norton, becoming more confused 
62 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


every moment, “ 1 generally do a little studying 
at that time, before breakfast.” 

“ I’ll be juggered ! Hey there, Bacon ; I have 
found a new curiosity for the dime museum.” 

“ What’s the trouble?” said Bacon lazily, from 
his alcove, making no attempt to answer Philip’s 
summons. 

“ Come here.” 

Curiosity overcoming his objection to Philip’s 
tone of command, Bacon emerged. Philip told 
him the news. 

“ Is that all ? ” said Bacon, in a bored tone. “ I 
have known that for weeks.” 

“Then he’s been annoying you too, has he?” 
enjoined Philip, determined to get Bacon’s sup- 
port. 

“ Annoying me ? How ? ” 

“ By getting up, stupid. Doesn’t it wake you 
up?” 

“Wake me up?” Bacon yawned ostentatiously. 
“ Nothing wakes me up.” 

“ But you said you knew he had been making a 
noise.” 

“ Oh, no I didn’t ; I said I knew he had been 
getting up. He told me.” 

“ Well,” said .Philip, balked in his attempts to 
arouse Bacon’s interest, “ I am not one of the 
seven sleepers, Norton, so please remember if you 
63 


PHILIP KENT 


have to indulge your passion for learning, you 
must make less noise about it, or you’ll get a nice 
muddy boot in the ear.” 

“ Why are you picking on him?” said Bacon, 
as he followed Philip back in his alcove. 

“ I’m not picking on him,” said Philip. “ I 
don’t propose to have my night’s rest broken.” 

“ Piffle,” said Baconfat, and turned on his heel. 

But Philip wasn’t satisfied. He made an 
earnest endeavor for three mornings to wake up 
before the first bell, in the hope that he could 
then legitimately place the blame on his neighbor, 
but in vain. He slept like a top. This made him 
more irritated. But the frost held, and cocking 
up was impossible while the snow remained hard. 
One night, however, Philip got his chance. The 
Minute was being visited by his mother, who was 
staying in the village, and Philip was granted 
leave of absence at The Minute’s earnest request, 
to get, as Baconfat expressed it, “a swell meal.” 
Aside from the natural boredom with which dining 
with an older person afflicted him, Philip had a 
most successful evening, and arrived at the school 
with The Minute in tow, feeling at peace with 
all the world. They tiptoed into the dormi- 
tory, reported to the master, and sought their 
alcoves. Philip sat down on his bed and lazily 
started to unlace his shoes. Except for a rustling 
64 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


which came from his late host’s alcove, the dormi- 
tory was in silence. Philip was not giving a 
thought to the occupant of No. 13, but suddenly 
a tremolo of sound struck his ear. it was 
not loud, but it was constant, rhythmical. For 
some time the significance of the sound was not 
borne in to Philip’s consciousness, but as he 
dropped one shoe on the floor, with an amount of 
noise which would have brought down his wrath 
upon Norton, if the latter had been so careless, 
the sound lost its rhythm and ended in a snore. 
Philip cocked an ear in the general direction 
whence it came. It was undeniably a snore. 

“ Hmm,” said Philip, and without moving held 
his attitude of attention. 

Again the rhythmical sound commenced ; again 
it ended in a snore, slightly more violent than the 
first one. This time Philip located it. A grin of 
delight overspread his countenance. Here was 
something he could take hold of. The sound un- 
mistakably came from Alcove No. 13. 

“ I’ve got him,” said Philip. “ We can’t have 
any snoring individuals in this dormitory,” and 
he stole softly out of his alcove to listen at the 
curtain of his neighbor in order that there might 
be no mistake. 

There was no mistake. As Philip put his ear 
to the curtain, the tremolo of sound was unmistak- 
65 


PHILIP KENT 


able. It ended in a snore as before, but such a 
snore ! It was more a convulsion of nature. 

“ Gee whiz ! ” said Philip. “ He must have 
swallowed his palate that time.” 

Having secured the evidence, Philip now made 
sure of his witnesses, and without loss of time pro- 
ceeded to Alcove No. 15, where Baconfat was 
sleeping the sleep of the just. Philip shook him 
roughly. There was no response. He shook him 
again, and ended by stripping the bedclothes off 
him. Bacon’s only response was to stir uneasily, 
stretch his arms, and turn over on his other side. 

“ Baconfat,” whispered Philip, “ Baconfat, wake 
up.” After some time Bacon was induced to open 
his eyes and show a more or less intelligent inter- 
est in his surroundings. 

“ What is it ? ” he said sleepily. 

Philip placed a finger to his lips, and very 
mysteriously said “ Listen.” 

If all criminals were as thoughtful about in- 
criminating themselves as Norton proved on this 
occasion, a detective’s life would be an easy one, 
for Norton promptly gave another of his hideous 
snores. 

“ Do you hear that ? ” 

“ Yes. What was it? ” said Bacon. 

“A snore. Our friend Norton is giving us a 
concert.” 


66 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“ A snore,” said Bacon incredulously. “ That 
wasn’t a snore. It sounded more like an ex- 
plosion.” 

“ Come along and see for yourself,” said Philip. 

“Aw, what’s the use?” was the other’s retort, 
casting a longing glance at his warm bed. “ I’ll 
freeze to death.” 

Philip, however, eventually got him to Norton’s 
bedside. “Now, what do you say to that?” he 
exclaimed triumphantly. 


67 


CHAPTER V 


NORTON 

Bacon listened for some time with a judicial air 
to the playing of the unmusical mouth-organ 
before him. “ Pretty bad/' he admitted at length, 
grudgingly. “ We ought to stop it,” and he 
leaned over and shook the sleeper’s shoulder. 

Norton swallowed his palate once more and 
awoke instantly. 

Philip glared at him. “ What do you mean by 
snoring like that? ” he demanded indignantly. 

“ Snoring?” replied the new boy. “ Was I 
snoring ? ” 

“Were you snoring?” Philip mimicked the some- 
what thin voice of the other. “ A steam calliope, 
I’d call it. Don’t you know you’re disturbing 
everybody’s sleep ? It’s very fresh for a new boy 
to behave in that way.” 

“ I’m awfully sorry,” stammered Norton, blush- 
ing to the roots of his hair. “ I will try not to do 
it again.” 

“ That’s all very fine,” retorted Philip. “ I know 
you’ll try not to do it again, but you can’t help it, 
and what I want to know is what we’re going to 
68 


IN THE LOITER SCHOOL 


do about it,” and he turned a questioning face 
toward Bacon fat. 

11 1 don’t know that there’s anything we can do 
about it except to tell him to stop,” said Bacon. 
“ We’ll give you another chance,” he continued to 
Norton in a severe tone. “ Just see that you stop 
it.” 

Philip was disinclined to be so lenient, but for 
the nonce satisfied himself with a glowering look 
at his unfortunate victim, and with an “ All right, 
Bacon,” let it go for the present, and retreated to 
his alcove. 

Norton returned to bed, but not to sleep. The 
unknown was too much for him. What Philip 
would do to him if he caught him snoring again 
he did not know, but his imagination made it 
sufficiently terrible to banish sleep ; at least until 
he had hit on some device through which he 
could be certain that he would not offend again. 
He tried sleeping on his stomach, with his head 
buried in the pillow. This nearly suffocated him. 
He then tried lying on his side with his under 
arm gripping the head of his iron bedstead, so 
that if he fell asleep he would be unable to turn 
over on his back. This seemed to work, but he 
allowed himself to doze off into much desired rest. 
With a start he awoke ; he was flat on his back 
and he knew his mouth was open, and was it, 
69 


PHILIP KENT 


could it be, the echo of a snore which still hung 
on the air? Much frightened, he listened in- 
tently for a sound from Philip's alcove, but none 
came. Reassured, but still trembling from his 
narrow escape, he again turned on his side. For 
a long while he thus struggled. If he had but 
known, Philip was sunk in the depths of sleep, 
and no snore made by mortal could possibly have 
awakened him. But Norton did not know this, 
and lay tossing in bed from side to side for a long 
while, until at last fear of Philip’s unknown 
vengeance was overcome by nature, and he slept. 

The next night, as he was slipping between the 
covers, Philip again appeared in his doorway. 

“ I’m not going to take any risks to-night, and 
I’ve thought out a scheme. You can’t snore if 
you keep your mouth shut.” 

“ Oh,” said Norton, “ all right, I’ll keep it shut.” 

“ I know you will,” said Philip grimly. “ I’m 
going to make you wear this,” and he produced a 
large bandana handkerchief. 

Norton recoiled, with visions of being strangled 
running through his brain. 

“ Put this under your chin and tie it on top of 
your head,” exclaimed Philip. “ Here, let me 
show you,” and as Norton, too much amazed to 
resist, sank down on his bed, Philip passed the 
bandana under his chin, brought it up across his 
7 ° 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


temples, and tied it with a hard, square knot on 
the top of his head. Then he stepped back and 
reviewed his handiwork. 

“ That ought to do the trick,” he announced 
with satisfaction. “ Keep that on and you won't 
bother the dormitory. And,” he added impress- 
ively, “ what I suppose you're more interested in, 
the dormitory won’t bother you.” 

As Norton performed his usual blush at the 
thought of himself in this strange get-up, he 
looked so comical that Philip broke into laughter. 

“ Gee,” he said, “ you look as though you had 
the mumps. Hey, Baconfat, Rodney, all you fel- 
lows, come here.” 

In a moment the alcove was thronged. 
“ What's all this ? ” “ What's the matter with 

him ? ” was demanded by a dozen voices. 

u I just wanted you to see,” said Philip grandly, 
“ my latest invention — Kent's Anti-snore Pro- 
tector.” 

Under the scrutiny of the dormitory Norton 
nearly collapsed with shame. But he dared not 
remove the bandage under Kent's eye, and, in 
truth, when he at last got to bed, it was with some 
satisfaction that he said to himself, “ After all, if 
I do snore now, it will be Kent's fault, and not 
mine.” 

The next day he found himself greeted as 


PHILIP KENT 

“ Snorer Norton.” Philip had enough right on 
his side in this instance not to be accused of bully- 
ing. But this taste of his power tended to whet 
his appetite for more, and finding Norton, from 
his proximity in the dormitory, and his proneness 
to embarrassment, a convenient victim, gradually 
grew into the habit of hazing Norton mildly every 
day. 

This habit culminated one moist March day, 
when winter had lost its grip and spring seemed 
just around the corner. The remains of the 
last snow-storm was rapidly running off into 
the gutters or soaking into the turf, when Philip, 
coming out of the schoolroom in a bad humor, for 
he had just been serving an hour’s “ slate ” for 
having been impertinent to Mr. Richardson, was 
bumped into by the unfortunate Norton. 

“ What the deuce ! ” exclaimed Philip. “ Why 
don’t you watch where you’re going ? ” 

“ I’m awfully sorry,” said Norton, picking up 
the books he had dropped in the collision. “ I 
didn’t see you at all.” 

“ Well,” said Philip, allowing his peevishness 
to get the upper hand, and willing to vent his 
spite against the world on any individual who 
came handy, “ you come along with me and I’ll 
teach you to be more careful in the future.” 

Norton hung back. Philip grabbed him by the 
72 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

arm, his anger rising. 44 When I tell you a 
thing,” he said, 44 1 want you to obey, or it will 
be the worse for you. Come along,” and he 
grabbed Norton’s books, threw them on top of 
a locker, and marched his victim out-of-doors. 

44 Get up against that wall,” he said coolly, 
44 and I’ll give you a lesson.” 

Norton went, but unwillingly, for his first ex- 
perience of cocking up had made him exceed- 
ingly chary of undergoing the ordeal again. 
Philip watched him march to the wall, bend 
over in the orthodox position, and busied himself 
making snowballs. The snow was just right. A 
handful of it seemed to form naturally into a 
snowball, and the least pressure transformed it 
into a mass of ice. 

44 These will show him,” he muttered to himself, 
as he accumulated a pile. 

“ Smack ! ” Philip had missed him, but Nor- 
ton shrunk away from the spraying snow instinc- 
tively. Philip felt a certain pleasure in watching 
him, and missed him again, this time deliberately. 
Again Norton shrank away, and again Philip felt 
a sense of grim pleasure. He reached down for 
another snowball, squeezed it with a vindictive 
strength, and threw with perfect aim. Norton 
jumped and gave a little yelp. Philip grinned. 
Thus for the first time he tasted the pleasure 
73 


PHILIP KENT 

which he had decried just a few months earlier. 
After the first cry Norton gave no further sign 
that the snowballs hurt him, and Philip, having 
once heard the cry, was determined to make Nor- 
ton show signs of pain again. “ I’ll make him 
squeal,” he said to himself, as he hurled snowball 
after snowball at the now quivering figure. He 
turned to make more snowballs, and as he 
straightened up he found Baconfat standing by 
his side. 

“ Why, Lippy,” said Bacon, “ what does this 
mean ? ” 

“ Nothing,” said Philip shortly. “ Norton got 
fresh, that's all.” 

“ Norton fresh,” said Bacon incredulously, look- 
ing from his companion to the new boy who had 
cautiously straightened up and was now peering 
over his shoulders in the hope that intervention 
had come at last. 

“ I never knew Norton to be fresh if he could 
help it. What did he do?” 

In Bacon's presence Philip rapidly cooled down, 
and was now somewhat at a loss to explain his 
actions. 

“ Oh, I don't know,” he said awkwardly. “ He 
ran into me just now, for one thing. I thought 
he needed taking down a bit on general princi- 
ples.” 


74 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“ Ran into you ? Is that all he did ? It seems 
to me you’re getting very touchy these days,” 
commented Bacon, with a glance at Norton’s face, 
from which the crimson induced by his position 
was rapidly giving way to an extreme pallor. 
“ You must have given him a good dose of it.” 

“ Oh, not so much,” said Philip, trying to appear 
unconcerned, and, as he began to realize that his 
enthusiasm had made the punishment more severe 
than he had intended, “ I’ve only had him up for 
a minute or two.” 

“Well, all I know ” began Bacon, and 

stopped. “ Run along, Norton, we won’t want 
you any more.” 

When Norton had disappeared into the school- 
house, Bacon turned again to Philip. “ All I 
know,” he said, “ is that I was up in the dormi- 
tory when I heard snowballing going on. I’ve 
changed all my clothes since then, and have come 
down here. Is that what you call a few min- 
utes ? ” 

“That’s what I said.” Philip grew stubborn. 
“ I didn’t give him any more than he deserved, 
and I’d like to know what business it is of yours 
to come butting in on me this way.” 

“ None, of course,” retorted Bacon. “ I butted 
in because I wanted to give you a friendly hint 
that Norton had had enough.” 

75 


PHILIP KENT 


“ That’s your opinion,” retorted Philip, who 
was viciously throwing snowballs at the wall. 

“ It is, and it might be the opinion of others. 
It isn’t my business, of course. It’s the sixth’s 
business to stop bullying. Of course, if you’d 
rather have Welsh call you down, I’ll let you 
alone.” 

Welsh ! The word brought Philip to his 
senses. No one need tell him what Momma 
would have thought of the performance, and 
Philip suddenly felt overcome with shame. He 
had been bullying ; there was no question about 
it. He had allowed a moment’s irritation so to 
arouse his temper that he had visited upon a per- 
fectly harmless individual who had really done 
him no hurt a pretty severe punishment. He 
felt himself suddenly to be in the Knuckle 
Spreader’s class. And what was it that through 
the midst of his thoughts he heard Baconfat 
saying? ‘‘For a fellow who, four months ago, 
didn’t see any fun in cocking up, it seems to me 
you have progressed pretty far. Look out that 
you don’t step into the Knuckle Spreader’s shoes.” 
A hot retort was on Philip’s lips, but Baconfat 
had swung on his heel and was marching off 
toward the gymnasium. The word died on 
Philip’s lips and he gazed after his friend mis- 
erably. 


76 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


If Bacon had come back at this moment Philip 
would have given an indication that he felt sorry, 
but the feeling of regret, which for the moment 
was strong within him, died down almost as 
quickly as it had arisen. The more he looked at 
Bacon’s retreating back the more he remembered 
the latter’s harsh words, and the less the actions 
of his which had called them forth. 

“ He’s a nice friend, he is,” commented Philip, 
“ to call me down that way before a new boy,” for- 
getting entirely that Bacon had sent Norton into 
the house before he had called Philip to account. 
“ I bet he did the same thing himself on more 
than one occasion,” he added aggressively. 
“ There’s no sense in his trying to put his grand 
ideas over on me. I won’t stand for it,” and 
muttering thus, Philip walked moodily back to 
the schoolhouse. As he reached the corridor he 
found himself an unwilling member of a tableau. 
Norton was leaning in one of the embrasures of 
the window. He had evidently been crying, for 
he was now struggling to control himself. Philip’s 
anger flared unreasonably at the sight, for he felt 
Norton was the author of all his troubles. If 
Norton hadn’t irritated him he wouldn’t have 
cocked him up, in which case he wouldn’t have 
fought with one of his best friends, and wouldn’t 
as a result be feeling at odds with all the world. 

77 


PHILIP KENT 


Philip’s anger flared, but it cooled rapidly, and 
was replaced by a sinking feeling in the pit of his 
stomach. Standing over Norton, looking very 
big, very formidable, and very severe, was Momma. 
Last year Philip had seen Momma’s blue eyes flash 
when he had caught the Knuckle Spreader tor- 
menting Philip, and the thought of those batteries 
turned on him was disquieting. He hesitated in his 
stride, walked on, hesitated, and turned in his tracks, 
for Momma’s voice had said : “ Come here, Kent.” 

Philip came, but whereas in his intercourse with 
Momma the older boy had always made him feel 
an equal, and Philip had always looked Momma 
in the eyes without thought, he found that 
Momma’s “ Come here, Kent ” had strangely 
taken all the starch out of his neck and made 
his eyelids heavy. He walked up to Momma with 
head bent and eyes lowered. 

“ What’s this I hear, Kent?” Momma said 
severely, and to the culprit the “ Kent ” was as 
the lash of a whip. “ Kent,” where it had always 
been “ Philip,” or an affectionate “ Lippy.” 

“ I find Norton,” Momma continued, “ all 
broken up. He tells me that you have been cock- 
ing him up. Is that right ? ” 

Philip lifted a scared glance at Momma’s face, 
and then, with eyes dropped once more, he nodded 
his head. 


78 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“ What had he done to you ? ” asked Momma. 

Philip started to repeat his story about the col- 
lision, but to his now clearer brain the excuse 
seemed so inadequate to account for the punish- 
ment that he remained silent. Momma seemed 
to appreciate his feelings, for he took on himself 
the burden of the testimony. 

“ He ran into you, by accident, didn’t he?” 

Philip nodded. 

“ And that was all ? ” 

Again Philip nodded. 

“ So you take him out and cock him up, and if 
I’m any judge, put him through a pretty stiff 
course — all because he ran into you by accident.” 
Momma’s voice had developed into a sneer. 
Philip’s head hung lower and lower, and he 
shifted from one foot to another uneasily. 

“ That’s right, is it ? ” persisted Momma. 

He seemed to take Philip’s silence as assent. 

“ Very well, then. You run along, Norton ; 
and Kent, come with me.” 

Momma gave Philip a bad quarter of an hour 
in the sixth form room. 

“ I’m surprised at you. I thought you were 
one of the fellows the old school was going to be 
able to count on when you got in the upper 
school. I thought you were going to be a leader. 
Instead of that you are beginning to show all the 
79 


PHILIP KENT 


earmarks of a bully. Cocking up's all right. I 
approve of it. But only when it's done for dis- 
cipline. When it’s done just to vent your spite 
on a fellow smaller than yourself, it is nothing but 
brutality. Don't be afraid," as Philip wilted un- 
der his attack, “ I’m not going to hurt you. I’m 
not going to do anything to you. I just want you 
to know that I’m disgusted with you. That I’m 
ashamed of you. Don’t let me ever hear of any- 
thing like this again. That’s all." 

Philip stumbled out of the room. No, Momma 
wasn’t going to hurt him. He was only ashamed 
of him. That was all. 


So 


CHAPTER VI 


u GOOD-BYE, KENT” 

This incident retarded Philip's athletic devel- 
opment, but it matured him spiritually. The fact 
that Momma no longer liked him, no longer ad- 
mitted him to his confidence, was the most severe 
punishment that could have been meted out. Up 
to this time he had not considered seriously the 
problem of why certain boys were liked and cer- 
tain ones disliked. Why some were always the 
center of a jovial throng, or deep in talk with a 
crony, while others invariably were alone or hung 
precariously on the outskirts of a crowd. 

If he had thought much about it he had de- 
cided offhand that a boy was popular because he 
did things, was good at athletics, or was just popu- 
lar for no reason at all ; or was unpopular, as he 
found for a time in his first form year, for refusing 
to obey orders when you were told to do things of 
which you did not approve, and he was inclined 
to believe that popularity could be forced by in- 
dependence, by taking the lead in things and hav- 
ing definite views. 

81 


PHILIP KENT 


Now for the first time he acquired a glimmer- 
ing of the great truth, that popularity is but an 
evanescent thing, unless it is founded on respect. 
He had lots of time to think of these things. In 
some way the tale of his rebuke by Welsh cir- 
culated through the school, and where formerly 
his classmates had rather sought him out, he now 
found a slight but distinct coolness evident in 
their manner. 

At first he rebelled in being sent even to this 
slight extent “ to Coventry,” but becoming rapidly 
sensitive on the subject, he ended by rather seek- 
ing solitude than having it forced upon him. He 
took part, it is true, in the spring sports, did his 
share on the Corinthian ball team, but all snap 
was gone from his playing, and in the spring 
sports he was not even placed. As nearly always 
happens under such circumstances, his studies im- 
proved, and having no temptation in study hour 
to pass surreptitious notes from desk to desk, or 
concoct great schemes which he would put into 
fulfilment with his friends on the morrow, he 
spent in studying most of the hour assigned for 
that purpose, and though Baconfat, self-constituted 
coach of the second form track team, was much 
displeased at his showing in the games, his masters 
at all events had no reason to regret the alteration. 

Unconsciously Philip began to dissect the char- 
82 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

acters of the older boys. Momma was a great ath- 
lete, captain of the football team, and therefore, 
from a superficial point of view, was deservedly 
popular. Yet there was Barnes, who couldn’t 
make a team if he tried, and was known by his 
familiars as a “ greasy grind ” because he headed 
the school with regularity every month, who 
seemed to be just as popular as Momma. 

Yet again, there was Dick Adams, who stood at 
the foot of his class, who never took any exercise, 
and yet without whom no gathering seemed com- 
plete. Philip was too young to put his finger on 
the touchstone which dominated all their char- 
acters, and if he had discovered it, he probably 
could have expressed it, if you asked him the 
question, only by saying, “ Oh, I don’t know ; 
they are all pretty square.” Whether or not he 
was able to put this idea into words, he did un- 
consciously, during the long spring months before 
the ending of the school year, conclude that the 
type represented by these three members of the 
upper school was the one which got the most 
out of his school life, and left the most enduring 
memories behind. 

Philip was not anxious to merit another such 
rebuke from Momma. In fact, he would have 
given worlds if the cause for it had never arisen. 
But by reason of his ambition of leadership, his 
83 


PHILIP KENT 

love for and his proficiency in athletics, he was 
naturally of the stuff from which bullies are made. 
Many an ambitious boy, failing to compete on 
equal terms with his peers, has descended to easy 
conquests over his inferiors, and from there it is 
but a short step to discourage opposition by bully- 
ing. What could save Philip, if he were to be 
saved, was his natural instinct for fair play. Left 
to himself, he would usually go out of his way to 
avoid taking an unfair advantage, but if it should 
so happen that he failed to reach the top of the 
ladder, his disappointment would show itself in a 
pretense of not caring, and a resultant disregard 
for the feelings of others. 

The school year drew to a close in a blaze of 
glory. The baseball team wound up a successful 
schedule by a glorious victory over Windsor. Two 
records were broken in the spring sports, and 
there were rumors that an alumnus had given a 
running track to the school. 

“ A real track, mind you,” said Baconfat. “ A 
real bang-up, first-class, cinder, quarter mile 
track.” 

“ I don’t believe it,” said Tait bluntly. 
“ Who’s got enough money to give us anything 
like that ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said Bacon, “ and it may not 
be true, but I got it on very good authority by 
84 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


accidentally on purpose overhearing the Gorgon 
say something about it.” 

“ How ? ” “ When ? ” was the excited chorus. 

“ When I was taking a siesta behind the back- 
stop and the Gorgon and Mr. Patterson stopped 
near me to watch the tennis. I couldn’t help 
hearing what they said.” 

“ Well, what did they say ? ” 

“ Why, I heard the Gorgon say something 
about ‘ track/ and then Pat asked, 1 It’s really 
decided, is it ? ' And the Gorgon said * Yes/ 
and ” Bacon paused. 

“ Yes, yes, go on,” his hearers cried. 

“ That's all I heard,” Bacon concluded. 

“ Aw, you old scandalmonger,” jeered Tait. 
“ And from that conversation you build a whole 
running track free of charge. You're worse than 
these fellows who reconstruct the whole animal 
from one bone of a dinosaurus.” 

“ Well,” piped The Minute, “ it might be true, 
you know. We need one badly enough.” 

It was true. The rumor which Bacon had re- 
tailed that June day became a fact on Prize Day. 
Dr. Wallace was jubilant in expressing his pleas- 
ure at the gift. The gymnasium was packed with 
its usual interested visitors, among whom the 
school, for all its numbers, seemed to dwindle. 
There were many loud cheers and much hearty 
85 


PHILIP KENT 


applause, as the various prizes were distributed for 
those who had deserved well of their masters, but 
when the proceedings seemed over and the lower 
school was wondering why Dr. Wallace did not 
give the signal for departure, thereby setting 
many hungry mouths free for a descent on the all 
manner of good things that heaped the tables in 
the dining-room, he advanced once more to the 
edge of the platform. 

“ I have an announcement to make. It is an 
unusually pleasant one. To those who love the 
school it is always good news to hear that some of 
those things which we lack have been or are about 
to be acquired. It is good news, I say, even when 
additions come into being through normal chan- 
nels of finance. It is doubly pleasant when we 
receive those things we need from a loyal alumnus. 
Then, indeed, we who spend our lives in endeavor- 
ing to make upright and good men of the boys 
entrusted to us, feel in some way repaid for our 
care. It is not so much what a gift means in 
actual money, though it is always good to know 
that our boys are succeeding in the world, but it is 
the fact that one of our boys is willing to return 
here, discover our needs, and supply them. That, 
it seems to me, indicates that our graduates carry 
away with them remembrances which do not fade, 
and a school would fail if its success were marked 
86 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


only by the worldly honors of its graduates. So to 
live that we will be remembered kindly is perhaps 
the best star by which to guide one’s path. This 
may seem a long preamble, and I know,” the Doctor 
added with a smile, “judging from the impatience 
on the front benches that there are some of you 
who feel hungry. I simply wish to announce that 
Mr. R. D. Abercrombie has presented a running 
track to Malvern School.” 

If the Doctor had intended to say anything 
further, he had no opportunity. The outburst of 
clapping from the rear of the hall would have been 
sufficient in itself to have drowned further words, 
and added thereto was a spontaneous yell from the 
benches occupied by the school, ending, as Momma 
Welsh sprang to his feet, in the long Malvern 
cheer. 

“ What did I tell you ? ” said Baconfat trium- 
phantly to Tait, who sat next to him. “ I make a 
pretty good detective after all, don’t I, Jack? 
After this you may take the trouble to believe me.” 

“ One swallow doesn’t make a summer,” retorted 
Tait. “This is the first time that I have ever 
known you to be right. But come on, let’s eat.” 

Philip, though as delighted as any of the others 
at the great news, and already planning with his 
fertile imagination to break records on the track 
before he was much older, was not having an 
87 


PHILIP KENT 


entirely pleasant Prize Day. In the first place, 
no prizes had come his way. Not that he had 
really expected any, or in fact cared about them, 
until he heard of their distribution to others. 
Then it did occur to him that it would be very 
gratifying to be one of the fortunate. What he 
did mind, however, and what made him feel more 
than ever ashamed of himself, was the announce- 
ment that George Norton had not only taken first 
prize in his form, but had taken the special prize 
offered for the highest average in the school. 

“ Gee,” he thought to himself, “ Norton's some 
scholar. I don't see how he did it the way I've 
been " — tormenting him, was the thought that 
came into his mind, but it was so unpleasant that 
he did not finish the sentence even to himself. 
The other and last fly in his ointment was that he 
was still in the bad books of Momma Welsh, and 
Momma would not be back next year. He wanted 
to tell the sixth former that he was truly sorry, 
but his bashfulness prevented him from making 
the opening, and none seemed to come of itself. 

He had a share of the good things provided, 
took part in the gayeties of the afternoon, but even 
the thought of the long summer holiday did not 
outweigh the other matters. He hung around 
South Corridor at every chance he had, hoping 
that Momma would notice him, but in vain. The 
88 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

last moment came. His trunk had gone, his bags 
were even now ready to be piled into the waiting 
barge, and still no Momma to say good-bye to 
him. Tait and The Minute and Baconfat piled on 
board with shrieks of delight. He mounted the 
steps slowly, with many a backward glance. Then, 
coming from the Doctor’s office along the cloisters, 
he saw Mr. Patterson and Momma. They all 
waved at him. 

“ Good-bye, Momma,” yelled Baconfat. “ Come 
up and see us next year if you’re not too busy 
making the Varsity.” 

“ Indeed I will,” yelled back Momma. “ I’ll be 
back and show you how to lick Windsor again.” 

Philip had said nothing, but as Momma ap- 
proached he ventured a timid “ Good-bye.” 
Momma glanced at him pleasantly enough, but 
without the old light in his eyes. 

“ Good-bye, Kent,” he said. The driver cracked 
his whip and the barge was off. 

Philip huddled in the corner. “ I’ll make him 
call me Philip again before I graduate,” he said. 


39 


CHAPTER VII 


UNINVITED GUESTS 

The third form year is always a betwixt and 
between period of a schoolboy's life. He is in 
the lower school but not really of it. The fourth 
former, head of the lower school, and vested with 
some authority, shows a sense of responsibility 
in preparation for the duties to come. The two 
lower forms have no responsibility and want none. 
The third former feels himself too big to take part 
in their youthful amusements, and is jealously 
kept in his place by the fourth former. 

Most boys spend their time in the third form 
growing. Philip was not backward in this respect. 
He shot up, and his family was at its wit's end to 
keep him in clothes. Bacon began to lose some 
of his useful fat. Tait remained as ever, spare, but 
grew taller. Even The Minute gave signs, as 
Bacon unfeelingly put it, “ of not always being a 
runt." 

Philip, with his expressed determination of 
making the school team in his fourth form year 
ever before him, had worked hard through an un- 
90 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

satisfactory football season. Windsor had tri- 
umphed, even though Momma Welsh had made 
good his promise of returning to coach. Philip’s 
highest pinnacle of joy had been two afternoons 
of practice with the second eleven. This had 
fallen to him, however, only on account of injuries 
to substitutes, and at their return he was relegated 
once more to the club teams. However, he had 
tasted the joy of helping to round the school team 
into shape, even though it was for but two after- 
noons, and his ambition became crystallized. With 
the passing of the year many changes took place 
in the school. The Knuckle Spreader transgressed 
once too often, and his place knew him no more. 
The running track was finished in time for the 
spring sports, and though in soft condition owing 
to its newness, gave the boys in the lower school 
a taste of what it would mean to them when their 
turn came to break the school records. The 
rivalry between Tait and Philip, which had begun 
in their first form year, was still in being, and 
each controlled a section of the class, with Bacon- 
fat and The Minute as the bond which tied them 
together. It was perhaps the summer vacation at 
the ending of their third form year which fixed 
most evidently the differences between the two 
boys. Philip, with his mind on football, had ex- 
ercised conscientiously all summer and had given 
9i 


PHILIP KENT 


many hours to perfecting the forward pass, and, to 
be candid, in the intervals between the hours de- 
voted to that pastime, gave much time to his 
books in an endeavor to work off a condition. 
Tait, on the other hand, though spare of body and 
a good athlete, not taking it so seriously as his 
competitor, had more or less idled away his sum- 
mer. A good scholar, he had no conditions to 
make up. 

“ Passed, thank goodness,” exclaimed Philip, as 
he saw the list of examination results on the bul- 
letin board one afternoon in late September. 
“ That’s a weight off my mind.” 

School had been under way for a week. New 
boys had stopped losing themselves in the many 
corridors. All signs of the recent arrivals had 
been put out of sight with the trunks, and only a 
practiced eye could have seen any signs of rust in 
the gears of school life. Captain Conway, left 
half-back and captain of the football team, had for 
a week past been casting his eye over the available 
material and wondering how it was possible to 
beat Windsor if he had to depend on such a squad. 
Nearly all the veterans had graduated, and those 
from whom he must fill the vacant places looked 
young indeed in comparison. To him they were 
still fourth formers. Philip, taking his courage in 
both hands, had entered his name among the can- 
92 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


didates for quarter-back, much to the amusement 
of the upper school, who considered Stanton the 
logical candidate for the position, through his 
showing on the second team the previous year. 
Philip was too much in earnest, however, to mind 
the remarks thrown at him, and within a week 
had made his position secure on the second team. 

“ Jove/’ he said one afternoon as he stumbled 
into the gymnasium hot and muddy from practice, 
“ I wish Conway would try me out once on the 
first.” 

“ You have your nerve right with you,” re- 
marked Baconfat from the muffled depths of the 
jersey he was pulling over his head. “ It was 
only two days ago that you were proud as Punch 
because you were the regular quarter on the sec- 
ond. Aren’t you ever satisfied ? ” 

“ No,” said Philip flatly, as he disappeared into 
the shower bath. “ Not while there is a chance 
to make the first.” 

Keen as he was, he found it tantalizing, when 
the first game was played, to lie on the side lines 
not even in uniform and see Stanton play the po- 
sition he so longed to fill. 

“ How do you think they shape up, Phil ? ” said 
The Minute, who, now as always, his shadow, 
crouched close beside him. 

11 Pretty fair,” replied Philip critically, “ consid- 
93 


PHILIP KENT 


ering that it is the first game. Awfully ragged, of 
course, but it looks as though Conway is going to 
make a good captain.” 

“ As good as Momma? ” queried The Minute. 

“ Nonsense, Rod,” retorted Philip impatiently. 
“ No one could be as good as Momma.” 

Green though it was, the Malvern team was too 
much for its opponents, and the school went to 
sleep on a victory. 

Life, however, was not all football. 

As fourth formers, Philip and his friends had 
been promoted to North Corridor, and were the 
proud possessors of rooms. They had paired off 
naturally — Philip and Rodney Moore ; Baconfat 
and Tait — and both rooms had already earned ten 
marks, or two hours in “ slate,” for having a ban- 
quet after lights. When Bacon had suggested the 
idea Philip had demurred, but had been over- 
ruled. 

“ Forget your old training,” Bacon had said. 
“ You're not in training yet, and it's very impor- 
tant that we should christen our new abodes in a 
proper manner. Polish up your chafing dish and 
get busy. Rod, you attend to the alcohol, and I 
get the food. Fork up, now, all of you.” 

Judged by certain standards — that of Lucullus, 
for instance — the repast could not be considered 
94 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


above reproach, but, considered as a midnight 
feast with four hungry boys as the guests, it 
turned out all that could possibly be desired, that 
is, at least until Mr. Kellar appeared on the 
scene. 

When the last bell rang the four conspirators 
dutifully put out their lights, waited until the 
last sounds along the corridor had died away, 
and then proceeded to the evening’s entertain- 
ment. The feast was to be in Bacon’s room. 
With the least possible amount of noise Philip 
and The Minute, after a cautious glance through 
the blackness, made a flank movement upon 
their neighbor’s room, there to find Bacon and 
Tait already busy with the preparations. The 
latter was busily draping a quilt over the transom, 
of which means of protection one had already 
been adjusted across the windows. Baconfat, on 
his knees in front of his bureau, was busily un- 
loading the contents of the lower drawer. This 
part of the proceedings interested the visitors 
more than the other. 

“What did you get?” queried The Minute, 
dropping on the floor beside Bacon. “ What’s 
this? And this?” 

“ Careful, there,” warned Bacon, with all the 
irritability of the born cook. “ You’ll be break- 
ing something before you know it,” and then in 
95 


PHILIP KENT 


a sibilant whisper, “ Watch out there, clumsy ! ” 
This was to Tait, who, stepping off the chair by 
which he had reached the transom, narrowly 
missed landing in the bulkiest package of all. 
Bacon snatched it quickly out of harm's way. 

“ What’s the row ? ” said Tait impatiently. 

“ Row ! ” said Bacon scornfully. “ You nearly 
squashed the eggs. Then where would we have 
been ? ” 

A portable electric light placed under the bed 
shot its beam across the room, thus giving the 
maximum of light with the minimum of danger 
of betrayal. In the center of this light spot re- 
posed the chafing dish. Bacon, squatting on his 
haunches, with his packages arrayed around him, 
began his culinary operations. 

“ What’s your menu ? ” asked Philip, who had 
taken a place of safety on the bed. 

“ How does scrambled eggs strike you ? ” said 
Bacon. 

“ Fine — as a beginner. What’s next ? ” 

“ Potted tongue ; some sardines ; cream cheese ; 
strawberry jam ; sarsaparilla and ginger ale.” 

There were murmurs of delight from his au- 
dience. 

“ Better and better,” said Philip. “ You make 
me hungry. Hurry up.” 

Bacon broke the eggs into the pan, and as the 
96 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


enticing odors arose four noses crept closer and 
closer to the dish. 

“ They're almost done now," said Bacon finally. 
“ Get the plates ready." 

“ I can find only two," announced Tait a mo- 
ment later. 

“ That's all we have. Two of us can eat off the 
same plate. You aren't too proud for that, are 
you ? " 

The Minute unwrapped the silver foil from the 
cream cheese and spread it daintily beside the jam. 

“ Open the ginger ale," he told Philip. “ Here's 
the opener." He tossed it across. 

“ Are you all ready now ? " said Bacon, giving 
a final stir and liberally sprinkling his dish with 
pepper and salt. “ Where are the plates?" 

In an instant the contents of the chafing dish 
were divided with scrupulous care, the cream 
cheese cut into four pieces — two on each plate, 
and the feast was ready. 

“ Gee, this is great ! " said Bacon, squaring off 
and seizing a fork. 

Tap! Tap! 

The four boys started, and then froze into im- 
mobility. 

“ Ssh ! " said Bacon, with finger on lip. 

Tait leaned stealthily for the light and turned 
off the switch. For a moment, in the absence of 
97 


PHILIP KENT 


farther sound, hope revived in their breasts. Per- 
haps the sound they had heard was nothing but 
a delusion. Simultaneously with the drawing of 
four tentative breaths, however, again came the 
summons. Rap! Rap! and a stern voice called 
“ Bacon.” 

Bacon groaned. “ Confound it,” he said, “ it's 
old Kellar. What does he mean by nosing around 
at this time of the night?” and then before any 
one could make a further move to hide the evi- 
dence of their guilt, the door opened and two 
figures loomed upon the threshold. 

“ You might give us some light, Bacon,” said 
Mr. Kellar’s voice. “ I don’t think you’re very 
hospitable.” 

The room illuminated showed their visitors to 
be Mr. Kellar and Mr. Patterson. They surveyed 
the scene in silence. 

“ Hm ! ” said Mr. Patterson. “ It seems to me 
that we have caught you red-handed. No excuse, 
I suppose? ” 

The four friends remained dumb, though Bacon 
cast a wistful glance at his enticing plate of eggs, 
now rapidly becoming cool. 

“ Well,” said Mr. Kellar, “ you know the pun- 
ishment. You, Kent, and you, Moore, caught out 
of your rooms after lights, I’m afraid I’ll have to 
give you ten marks apiece.” 

98 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


Unseen by the boys, who were studiously gazing 
at the carpet, Mr. Patterson with a twinkle in his 
eye nudged his companion. 

“ It seems an awful pity to me that those eggs 
should go to waste,” he said. 

Bacon’s face lit up with the thought that after 
all something was to be saved from the wreck of 
the evening. But gloom descended as Mr. Patter- 
son continued, and Bacon stared at him as though 
not believing his ears. 

“ Mr. Kellar and I,” Mr. Patterson went on, 
“ have just been taking a walk, and for my part 
I’ve developed a keen appetite. How about 
you ? ” Mr. Kellar agreed with this view gravely. 

“ It seems to me, Bacon,” the younger master 
continued, “ the least you can do in view of the 
fact that two of your masters have dropped in un- 
expectedly in this way and are both famishing for 
a bite to eat, is to offer us some hospitality. For 
instance, that plate of eggs looks very enticing to 
me.” 

Seeing that Bacon was too much overcome to 
respond to this hint, Tait sprang forward. 

“ Why certainly, sir, and I think you’ll find 
them very good, too,” he said, as he handed the 
plates to the master. “ Bacon is a pretty good 
cook, and I know you can rely on the eggs being 
fresh.” 


99 


PHILIP KENT 

Mr. Patterson was somewhat taken back by the 
poise with which Tait accepted the situation, but 
nevertheless seated himself on the bed and gra- 
ciously accepted the plate. Mr. Kellar did like- 
wise. 

“ Excellent ! Excellent ! I compliment you, 
Bacon,” said Mr. Patterson, as he made rapid 
work of his portion. “ I have never tasted 
better.” 

“ And this cheese,” commented Mr. Kellar. 
“ Very fine, don’t you think so, Patterson?” 

Bacon, between fear and disgust, watched his 
beloved eggs disappearing beyond hope of recall. 

“Won’t you have some jam, too?” he said 
somewhat bitterly, shoving the jar under Mr. 
Patterson’s nose. The master’s eyes twinkled, 
and he surveyed the boy gravely. 

“ Thank you, no,” he said, “ but do I see some 
drinkables? As I live — ginger ale and sarsapa- 
rilla I ” he exclaimed. “ You certainly do treat 
yourself well. Ask us again, won’t you, the next 
time you have a spread like this?” 

Bacon was beyond words, and it was Philip 
who proffered a broken-handled tooth mug to his 
thirsty superior. Mr. Patterson looked at it crit- 
ically. 

“ If it’s all the same to you,” he said, “ I’ll take 
mine out of the bottle.” 


ioo 



YOU 


JAM, TOO ?” 


won’t 


SOME 


Si 




HAVE 


f&m® 

-Mm 





































is 











I mm mm i ; 






. 

































IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


As the meal proceeded, the best attempts of both 
masters failed to extract more than monosyllabic 
answers from their victims, seeing which they 
drew the agony as short as was consistent with 
making a clean sweep of all eatables in sight with 
the exception of the jam. With a sigh of reple- 
tion, Mr. Patterson finally put down his plate. 

“ I really think you boys have saved my life 
with your very cordial hospitality. I cannot be 
too thankful that Mr. Kellar happened to be in 
the store this afternoon when Bacon was purchas- 
ing his supplies. The occasion has been a very 
pleasant one. Good-night ! ” 

The boys watched the door close on their tor- 
mentors. 

“ I’ll be — switched,” said Bacon, his long sup- 
pressed wrath bubbling over. “ That’s the mean- 
est trick I have ever heard of. They didn’t leave 
me even a mouthful,” he went on, hunting among 
the debris for a possible morsel of cheese. “ Not 
a crumb ! ” 

“ I hope it gives them a stomach-ache,” said 
Philip vindictively. “ They ate as though they 
had been starved for a week. Well,” he added, 
“ I’ll save this out of the wreck for Rodney and 
myself,” and seizing a bottle of sarsaparilla, he re- 
tired to his room. 

“ I wonder if those marks will stand ? ” queried 

IOI 


PHILIP KENT 


Rodney as he stumbled into bed, exhausted with 
the events of the past hour. 

“ Not if there’s any justice in them,” growled 
Philip, “ considering that they ate us out of house 
and home. They ought to be content at that. 
Darn them ! ” 

The four unfortunates listened to the reading 
of “ slate ” the next afternoon with a foreboding 
curiosity. As the master came to the fourth form 
his fluent reading suffered an interruption. He 
peered again at the book. 

“ What’s this ? ” he mumbled. “ Bacon, Kent, 
Tait, Moore ; ten marks apiece, for being out of 
room after lights, but ” — he seemed to have some 
difficulty in reading the memorandum — “ we con- 
sider that they have already served five marks, 
which may therefore be remitted.” The master 
raised his head and looked inquiringly at the cul- 
prits, who turned a brick red under the astonished 
look of the school. A look of relief shot across 
their countenances. After one more puzzled look, 
the master continued : “ Mr. Kellar has asked me 
to tell those boys who failed in Latin this morning 
to write out ten irregular verbs during their hour 
in 1 slate.' Mr. Kellar cannot be here himself, I 
believe, as he is not feeling well.” 

At that The Minute giggled. 


102 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE KNACK OF IT 

The football season had been under way but a 
short two weeks when the school realized that 
there was to be a fight for the quarter-back posi- 
tion. It had not taken many practices to demon- 
strate to the most critical eye that Philip Kent as 
a forward passer was much the superior of Stanton. 
Stanton’s strength lay largely in the fact that a 
year’s experience on the second team had given him 
a judgment in the selection of plays which nothing 
short of experience would supply. Besides this, he 
was a sure tackier and fast on his feet. 

In making the forward pass, however, he habit- 
ually lobbed the ball, which resulted in such a 
loss of time that his opponents could ordinarily 
either reach the ball before the player for whom it 
was intended or at least could arrive in time to 
jump into the air and bat it down out of harm’s 
way. 

Philip, on the other hand, had evolved a sys- 
tem which so far as he knew was original. Grasp- 
ing the ball by the end, he hurled it with a spiral 
103 


PHILIP KENT 


motion which carried it low and swift to the spot 
at which he aimed. Of course, in comparing the 
work of the two teams, the number of passes which 
succeeded for the first team and failed for the sec- 
ond, the balance was in favor of Stanton. But 
this was due to the better timing which superior 
coaching had given the school team. When 
Philip’s passes failed they did so largely because 
his end or half-back was not in position to receive 
the ball at the crucial moment. 

On the other hand, where Stanton was strong 
Philip was weak. Having but few players on his 
team upon whom he could rely to gain ground, he 
had fallen into the bad habit of using but a few 
signals, thereby giving his opponents a chance to 
diagnose his play, and his attacks were usually 
stopped. In tackling, though he may have satis- 
fied the side line watchers who deigned to criticize 
the second team, he did not satisfy himself. Time 
and again when a low hard-flung tackle would 
have downed the runner, he misjudged his dis- 
tance from a strange reluctance to leave his feet, 
and was forced to be content with a clawing tackle 
waist high, from which only too frequently the 
runner shook himself free. Try as he would he 
did not seem to be able to overcome this fault. 
Each time as the chance arose he gritted his teeth ; 
vowed that he would hurl himself wildly if he 
104 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


could do no better, but invariably there was the 
same hesitancy, and he failed. Night after night 
in the privacy of their bedroom he bewailed his 
stupidity to The Minute. 

“ If I could only make a decent tackle,” he said 
one night, “ I should have a good chance for the 
first team. I know my passing is better than 
Stanton’s.” 

“ What’s wrong with you ? ” asked The Minute 
commiseratingly. “ You used to be a fiend at 
tackling in your second form year.” 

“ I don’t know,” said Philip miserably. “ I 
don’t just seem to be able to get down to it. I get 
my man often enough — it isn’t that ; but I don’t 
get him clean. He fights me off for five yards or 
so.” 

“ Is there any way I can help you ? ” asked his 
roommate. “Just say the word. Perhaps if I 
watch you during practice I can see what it is that 
you are doing incorrectly.” 

“ I’m afraid you couldn’t help, Rod,” replied 
Philip impatiently, “ because I know when I’m 
doing it wrong. I’m not judging my distance. But 
I’ll get it yet,” he said confidently, “ if hard work 
counts for anything.” 

The time for the definite choosing of the first 
squad was rapidly approaching, and the next after- 
noon Philip put on his football clothes with a feel- 
105 


PHILIP KENT 


ing that it was now or never. When he reached 
the field he found Ralph Bronson, who had been 
elected captain of the second and was playing at 
full-back, impatient to start the practice. 

“Come on, Lippy," he said, “you're late this 
afternoon, and I want to try out a couple of new 
plays before we tackle the first team. I'm after 
their blood to-day." 

With the squad assembled, he gave out the new 
signals and explained the plays. “ It's a delayed 
forward pass," he said. “The signal will be 
eighty-two. We will use it from the punt forma- 
tion. I drop back to receive the pass as though I 
intended to kick. Kent takes the ball and passes 
it either left or right according as his men are 
free. Do you all get that ? Good ! Now let’s 
try it." 

At first the play worked crudely, as new plays 
always do. Philip tried it again. 

“ You have to get down there faster, Jack," he 
said to Tait. “ You're a good four yards back of 
where you should have been." 

“ Don't you worry," retorted Tait, “ I'll get 
there." 

“ You’d better," growled Philip. “ Remember 
what the cap said. We want to make a touch- 
down with this play to-day." 

Again he tried it, and again Tait was unable to 
106 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

reach the flying ball, which grounded and bounded 
aimlessly over the turf. 

“ You’ll have to give me more time,” com- 
plained Tait breathlessly, as he came back from 
his last wasted effort. 

“ I don’t think I can. They’ll be on top of me 
right after the pass is made. It must be a fast 
one.” 

“ Then don’t pass it so far down the field.” 

“ Oh, nonsense,” retorted Philip. “ The whole 
trouble is you don’t run fast enough. If I pass it 
closer to the line it will go right into the hands of 
their defensive half.” 

At this point Bronson took a hand in the dis- 
cussion. “ Try it once now without the signal,” 
he said. “ Start fast, Tait.” 

The ball was snapped ; Philip waited a moment 
and made the pass. Tait, straining every nerve, 
did his best to reach it, but a scant yard beyond 
his reach it passed over his head. Both Tait and 
Philip looked inquiringly at the captain. 

“ Tait’s right,” the latter said quickly. “ You 
either have to give more time, Phil, or make a 
shorter pass. Now let’s try it with the whole 
team.” 

This time Philip waited perceptibly longer and 
also shortened his pass. The ball flew straight 
into Tait’s waiting arms. 

107 


PHILIP KENT 


“That’s the stuff/’ said Bronson. “Just re- 
member that.” 

“ That’s all right for practice,” grumbled Philip, 
“ but I bet in a game they’ll either smother me 
before I can get the pass off, or their half-back 
will get it with a good chance for a touch-down.” 

“ Well, the only way we can prove that is in ac- 
tual practice. Let’s try out something else.” 

If Philip, when he was feeling most blue about 
his chances to make the first team, had overheard 
a conversation between Conway and Mr. Patter- 
son, he would have redoubled his best efforts in 
learning how to make a low tackle. The previous 
night the master, who was also coach of the foot- 
ball team, had discussed the prospects with the 
captain in his room at the end of South Corridor. 

“ What do you think of our chances,” asked 
Conway, “ now that you have had them for two 
weeks ? ” 

Mr. Patterson leaned back in his chair and bal- 
anced a ruler critically on his finger. “ It’s hard 
to say,” he replied at length. “They are very 
green, and though we won last Saturday by a good 
score, it wasn’t the sort of clean-cut victory that 
I like to see. We have one or two weak spots. 
Really weak ones, I mean, and no exceptionally 
strong ones to balance them. Doane makes a good 
tackle, and Martin at guard on the right side of 
108 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


the line won’t have much ground made through 
him, but our ends seem very slow, particularly in 
bringing off the forward pass, and with a team as 
light as ours the forward pass should be our main 
reliance.” 

Conway pondered this for a moment. “ Do you 
think that the failure of the forward pass is due 
entirely to our ends ? ” he said interrogatively, 
with a slow shake of his head. “ Sometimes I’m 
not at all satisfied with Stanton’s work.” 

Mr. Patterson looked up quickly. “ You’ve no- 
ticed that, have you ? ” he said. “ It’s a position 
I’ve had my eye on for several days. Once or 
twice I have nearly advised you to try some one 
else for the position, but in view of Stanton’s ex- 
perience I hesitated to suggest the change.” 

“ I’d be willing to change if we could find a 
man who is better. Did you have any one in- 
mind? ” 

Mr. Patterson hesitated, tapping the ruler 
thoughtfully on the desk. “ There is only one to 
whom we would be warranted in giving a trial,” he 
said at length. 

“ Who’s that?” 

“ Kent.” 

“ Kent,” echoed Conway. “ He’s too young. 
He’s only in the fourth.” 

“ I don’t think his age would make much dif- 
109 


PHILIP KENT 


ference,” replied the master judicially. “ In fact, 
a little young blood in this team might help it 
along. The chief trouble with it, I think, is that 
most of the men, having been substitutes last year, 
felt that they would naturally step into the shoes 
of those who graduated, and aren’t worrying very 
much as to competition for their places. Nothing 
is more fatal to a team than that condition.” 

The captain pondered this. “ Yes,” he said, 
41 that’s true enough, and Kent is a mighty good 
man with the forward pass. But how about him 
in other ways — tackling, handling the team, choice 
of signals?” 

14 As far as handling the team is concerned,” 
commented Mr. Patterson briskly, “ he has a good 
head on his shoulders, and what he does not 
know I think I could teach him between now and 
the Windsor game ; but in tackling he doesn’t 
seem to improve. He has no dash.” 

“ That would bar him, then,” said the captain 
shortly. 44 The quarter-back has to know how to 
tackle.” 

“ Yes, that’s my chief objection to trying him. 
We won’t make any change for the present, but 
we might as well keep our eye on him.” 

For a couple of days nothing happened. Then 
out of a clear sky, in the last five minutes of 
practice one afternoon, Mr. Patterson called Stan- 

IIO 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


ton to the side lines and told Philip to take his 
place. 

“ Don’t try anything fancy,” warned the coach. 
“ Just try half a dozen simple plays. I’ll call the 
signals for you.” 

Philip, his heart in his mouth, took his position. 
The first play Mr. Patterson called for was a for- 
ward pass. Philip shot the ball fast and low to 
where the end waited for it. Mr. Patterson’s eyes 
brightened, but he said nothing. A few simple 
plays followed, Mr. Patterson paying strict atten- 
tion to the way in which Philip passed the ball to 
the runner. 

“ That’s good,” he said. “ Now let the second 
team have the ball.” 

Whether or not the coach had dropped a hint to 
the members of the first team Philip never deter- 
mined, but in two out of the first three plays the 
second team attempted, the runner got free and it 
was up to Philip to make the tackle. The first 
time he got his man by a supreme effort, but even 
the most kindly critic could not have called it a 
low tackle. The second time he misjudged the 
distance, tried to grab the runner around the neck, 
and was dragged fifteen yards before the ball was 
downed. The third time, repeating his former 
mistake, the runner broke clear for a touch-down, 
and Philip, with diminished hopes, walked back 
hi 


PHILIP KENT 


at the end of practice to the gymnasium. His op- 
portunity had come and he had failed to grasp it. 
As, with head bent, sweater swinging idly over one 
arm, he trudged along, he heard a light step beside 
him and the coach joined him. 

“ Put on your sweater, hadn't you better ? " he 
advised kindly, and then after a glance at the 
woebegone face of his companion, he added, 
“ Don't take it to heart too much that you missed 
that last tackle. We all do that occasionally. If 
I remember," he went on in a well-meant effort to 
make the other forget, “ in my senior year at 
college, in the Harvard game, their left half-back 
came through. I had a clear chance at him ; 
thought it was so easy that I bungled it, and he 
got away for a touch-down." 

“ Hard luck," commented Philip. “ Was that 
the year they licked you ? " 

“ No, not that year ; the team pulled itself 
together, and we won out. That was the only 
time that they came anywhere near scoring." 

“ But it wasn't only missing the last tackle," 
said Kent, reverting to his own troubles. “ I did 
get my man the other two times, but I bungled the 
tackle." 

“ Oh, you'll get the knack of it some day," 
replied the coach soothingly. “ Some day when 
you’re feeling up on your toes and just a little 
1 1 2 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


angry with yourself and your team, it will come 
to you all at once, and once you learn it you'll 
never forget it.” 

“ I hope you're right.” Philip drew a deep 
sigh as he clattered down the steps leading to the 
shower baths. 

The school team defeated its opponent the next 
Saturday, but did so only after a hard fight, a fight 
which was made hard by Stanton's failure suc- 
cessfully to negotiate the forward pass, and that 
night Mr. Patterson shook his head in doubt over 
the problem which confronted him. At every 
chance he had, Philip studied the method of the 
better players, and he was forced to acknowledge 
that he knew just how a tackle should be made 
with the least chance of injury to the tackier and 
most severe results to the runner, but could not 
put in practice what he knew. With the advance 
of the season, with the hardening of the muscles 
of the two squads, the daily contests became more 
severe, and far from being content each day to 
take a beating, an intense rivalry grew up in the 
second team to prevent a score of more than one 
touch-down against them. 

“ Play up, fellows,” called Philip one afternoon, 
as the plunges of Conway carried the second team 
back yard by yard. “ Play up, and they won't 
score on us this afternoon.” 

1 13 


PHILIP KENT 


The teams had been battling for ten of the 
twenty minutes allotted for scrimmaging, and as 
yet the first team had not succeeded in advancing 
the ball within striking distance. 

“ Hold them this time, and we'll make a touch- 
down ourselves," urged Philip from his position 
in the back field. So far his line had held, and 
he had had no opportunity to make a tackle in 
the open field. A plunge on center, a splitting 
aside of the mass of players, a sudden indecisive- 
ness on the part of the attack, and the ball flew 
spinning along the ground. The first had fumbled. 

“ Fall on it," yelled Philip, rushing toward the 
play himself. “ Good work, cap, that's the way 
to nail them." Bronson had recaptured the ball. 

“ Now, fellows, all together," and Philip squatted 
behind his center, rattling off his signals. 

The first team, somewhat disgruntled by the 
fumble, gave ground for a moment or two, as 
Philip quickly massed the plays, first on one side 
of the line and then on the other. 

“ First down," declared the referee. 

“ Keep it up, fellows, keep it up," chanted Philip. 
“ Sixty-four, ninety-one, eighty-two, thirty-one," 
he rattled off the signal for the delayed pass. 

Bronson dropped back ; the ball was snapped ; 
Conway came rushing through to block the punt, 
and Philip, straightening up as the burly form 
114 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


went by him, shot the ball toward the left side 
line. Tait was speeding down the field. Twelve 
yards from the line he looked over his shoulder to 
place the ball, gauged its direction, and did his best 
to reach it. The pass was too far. He touched it 
with one hand, but could not hold it. 

“ Incomplete pass,” announced the referee. 

“ Confound you, Jack,” said Philip. “ We would 
have had a good gain then if you had only held 
that ball. Now mind you grab the next one.” 

“ Make them a bit shorter, Lippy,” said Tait, 
still panting from his exertion. 

“ That was short enough,” retorted Philip. 
“ Butter-fingers I ” 

Two plays later he tried the same signal. Again 
Tait just failed to reach the ball. Philip was 
furious. 

“ What’s the use of my making good passes like 
that last one if you’re never where you ought to 
be ? ” he stormed at the half-back. 

“ It’s your fault, not mine,” replied Tait coolly. 
“ They’re fine passes, all right, but you might just 
as well throw them over the schoolhouse for all 
the chance you give me to connect with them.” 

A lucky play which found an opening through 
right tackle gave the second their third first down 
in succession, and at the prospect of scoring Philip 
rapidly forgot his altercation with Tait. He even 
ii5 


PHILIP KENT 


found time between plays to say, “ 111 try the next 
one shorter, since you can’t seem to make it, but 
whatever you do, look out for the right half-back.” 
His chance soon came. Fourth down and six 
yards to go. By all the laws of football, a punt 
was the only play called for, but Philip, deter- 
mined to get that score if it were humanly possible, 
became a law unto himself and gave “ eighty-two ” 
again. This time there was no question but that 
the first team was foiled. The line came piling 
through intent on blocking the kick. Philip took 
all the time he could and then threw a short, 
sharp pass. Anxious to make good his promise 
to Tait, he overdid it slightly and threw at more 
of an angle than he had intended. The defensive 
half-back saw his opportunity and grasped it. Al- 
lowing Tait to pass him unimpeded, he stepped 
across and intercepted the pass. A fast runner, 
he seemed to have a clear field before him. 

“ Confound Tait,” was all Philip said, as he saw 
the pass fall into his opponent’s hands. “ I knew 
that would happen,” and then, hot with rage at 
Tait and his opponent and himself, he raced 
across the field to intercept the runner. For the 
first time during the football season, all consider- 
ation, all thoughts left him, except the burning 
desire to save the touch-down. The runner was 
fast, had the advantage of an instantaneous start, 
116 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


and it looked as though he would win clear. 
Their courses would meet at right angles. 

“ I can’t reach him,” thought Philip, and then 
blindly, so far as any conscious thought of how he 
was doing it, threw himself at the runner. He 
only knew he had to get him. One moment the 
runner had felt hopelessly out of reach, the next 
Philip was surprised to find his body almost par- 
allel with the ground and his shoulder hitting 
with a satisfying thud against the moleskin trousers 
of his opponent. Instantly his arms closed. Run- 
ner and tackier fell in their tracks, with Philip on 
top. A satisfying sensation of success flashed over 
him as he realized what he had done. How easy 
it was, after all, and he tightened his arms once 
more in order to have the pleasure of feeling the 
moleskin trousers. The runner looked over his 
shoulder at him quizzically. 

“ Good tackle, kid,” he said. 


ii 7 


CHAPTER IX 


THE FIRST TEAM 

That evening Captain Conway gave Philip a 
copy of the signals for the first team. 

“ Study these up,” he said casually. “ I think 
you’re the most likely substitute for Stanton, and 
I want to feel that we have some one to take his 
place in a pinch. That was a nice tackle you 
made this afternoon. See that you keep it up.” 

Philip flushed with delight, walked along the 
corridor, his head in the clouds, but his eyes de- 
vouring the precious slip of paper entrusted to his 
care. 

“What did I tell you?” said Mr. Patterson, 
who, encountering him at this moment, could not 
forbear to congratulate him. “ That was as pretty 
a tackle as I have seen on the field this year, and 
now that you know that you can do it, I am not 
going to take anything less from you.” 

Philip grinned. “ It felt so good, sir, that I 
don’t think I could forget it if I tried,” and he 
rushed on to tell the good news to The Minute. 

“That’s bully,” said his diminutive roommate, 
pushing over a chair in his excitement as he 
118 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


jumped up. “That means that you’ll make the 
first sure, doesn’t it ? ” 

“ I hope so,” said Philip spontaneously, and 
then, more soberly, “ No, it doesn’t really mean 
that unless Stanton gets hurt, I suppose. But 
I’m on the squad, anyway, and that’s something.” 

As the days went on, however, Philip found 
that he was given charge of the team for a good 
half of the practice each afternoon, and hope that 
he might be the final choice grew in his breast. 
No more midnight feasts for him ! But what 
took their place, and what, if anything, was more 
delightful than even the pleasures of chafing dish 
suppers, was the supper of crackers and milk 
which was provided for the football squad every 
evening at bedtime. 

And how hungry the squad could get ! The 
big platters of crackers, the foaming pitchers of 
milk, vanished at the attack, and it would have 
been a small mouse indeed who could have sus- 
tained life on the remnants. Philip did not feel 
sure of his position on the squad, for all the en- 
couragement which he had received, until the 
notice was posted that the outfitter would arrive 
at school to measure the squad for football suits. 
Philip scanned the list eagerly. 

Yes, his name was there. Kent. Philip Kent. 
There was no mistake about it. And it wasn’t 
119 


PHILIP KENT 


at the foot of the list, either, but right in the 
middle of names whose owners were secure in 
their positions. Measurements were to be taken 
in the sixth form room, and Philip entered that 
sacred precinct with some timidity and some un- 
pleasant memories of his last visit. The big table 
was covered with an assortment of football clothes, 
pads, jerseys, everything that the game demanded 
or a boy could wish. The blue jerseys, bearing 
the big white M, the delightful looking sweaters 
bearing the same proud letter, which had seemed 
until recently so far beyond his reach, thrilled 
him. Was he really to be the proud possessor of 
such an outfit? A crowd around Billy Burns, 
the salesman, paid him at first slight heed. 

“ Give me lots of room round the waist, Billy," 
said one. “ The trousers you made for me last 
year nearly strangled me." 

“ You're too fat," joked Billy, as he wielded his 
tape-measure skilfully, and in some manner amid 
the crowd of questions hurled at him managed to 
jot down the correct numbers under the correct 
names. Busy as he was, when he caught sight of 
Kent he had time to throw him a jovial word. 

“ Gee," he said, “ how you fellows grow. You 
don’t mean to say that this is my old friend Kent 
of the first form who wants a uniform ? You 
make me feel my age." 


120 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


" Sure, Billy,” said Conway. “ They grow fast 
here at Malvern, and Kent's one of the bright 
lights on the squad. Be sure to give him a good 
fit, or you'll hear from him.” 

“ Oh, I guess Lippy and I can get along,” said 
Burns. “Just hop up here on the stool and I'll 
have you down on my list in a jiffy.” 

It was a strange experience for the fourth 
former to be taken in thus warmly as a member 
of the family and to associate on equal terms with 
the upper school. Wise in his generation, he did 
not presume on the opportunity, and, his measures 
taken and his suggestions given, he retired to a 
more usual atmosphere. 

In the incentive of knowing that he was secure 
on the first squad even though no determination 
had been made as to who would play the quarter- 
back position in the game with Windsor, Philip 
redoubled his efforts both on and off the field. 
Rarely was he seen very far from a football. 
Daily during the fifteen minute recess, securing a 
willing ally in his roommate, he passed the ball 
to and fro. And even when sitting at ease in his 
room when the day's work was done, he kept a 
football in the chair with him, handling it, tossing 
it up in the air and making imaginary passes, un- 
til The Minute rebelled. 

“ It's all very well, Philip, to be interested in 
1 21 


PHILIP KENT 


football, but I confess I get enough of it during 
the afternoon. The sight of you continually 
handling that ball makes me nervous.” 

Philip laughed. “I’m sorry, Rod,” he said, 
“ but unless you’ve tried it you can’t imagine how 
much value the constant handling of the ball is. 
It seems foolish, I know, but I’m already begin- 
ning to feel as though the ball sticks to my fingers 
whenever I touch it. And that,” he ended with 
a sort of defiant thrust of his chin, “ is the way 
a football ought to feel.” 

“ Well,” retorted Rodney resignedly, “ if it gives 
you so much comfort I won’t ask you to stop, but 
I’m glad the football season is on the wane.” 

“ Well, Rodney, you know how much I want to 
make quarter-back.” 

“ I know, Philip,” said The Minute apologetic- 
ally. “I was only joking. I’m just as keen as 
you are that you should have a hand in licking 
Windsor. How are things going these last days?” 

“ Pretty well.” Philip’s voice sounded confi- 
dent. “ I’m really beginning to tackle, and I feel 
that is to be the turning point. Well/’ he added, 
getting up and stretching himself, “ Mr. Pat is 
giving us a blackboard talk to-night, and I must 
get down to it.” 

The Minute looked after his friend with a some- 
what wistful expression. He felt that since Philip 
122 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


had been made a member of the squad he was grow- 
ing away from him. Naturally, much of his time 
that had been heretofore spent in Rodney’s society, 
either at a game or at leisure, was now spent in 
the company of the upper school. There is a vast 
hiatus between an upper school and a lower school 
boy, but in the last analysis not so much as there 
is between a member of the school squad and the 
rest. When Philip wasn’t playing football he 
was listening to blackboard talks to the squad, or 
to the individual teaching on the duties of a 
quarter-back from Mr. Patterson, who from his 
great fund of knowledge was able to map out al- 
most every conceivable situation which might 
arise in a game and indicate to Philip what would 
be the proper play to give under the circumstan- 
ces. 

The talk on such occasions would run some- 
thing like this : “ Your ball ; third down ; your 
own forty-five yard line ; wind in your favor — 
what signal would you give?” 

“ Punt,” Philip would answer quickly. “ That 
was an easy one.” 

“ Same situation, but first down,” Mr. Patterson 
would fire back. 

At that Philip might hesitate and scratch his 
head. Then, tentatively, “ Punt,” he would again 


answer. 


123 


PHILIP KENT 

11 Why ? ” Mr. Patterson would ask dispassion- 
ately. 

“ No use tiring my men out by rushing the ball 
when the wind’s in my favor.” 

“ Right,” would say Mr. Patterson. “ Save your 
ammunition until you’re within striking distance. 
Of course, if the other team is easy, or if the time 
is short and you’re desperately in need of a score, 
then you should try something else. Move the 
ball to your opponent’s territory on the forty yard 
line ; otherwise the same situation — what would 
you do then ? ” 

“ First down ? ” queried Philip. Mr. Patterson 
nodded. “ That’s a pretty broad question. I 
think I’d use whatever plays I thought would gain 
ground.” 

“ Yes, of course,” was the retort. “ But suppose 
you hadn’t been gaining ground successfully and 
you suddenly got the ball in that position on a 
fumble. Don’t forget the wind,” he continued as 
Philip started to answer. 

“ That’s so. Why, I’d try a forward pass from 
the fake punt formation.” 

“ 1 think that would be the play,” said Mr. Pat- 
terson. “ You see, you will have been kicking on 
first or second down a good deal, and to place a 
high punt so as to fall at the ten yard line is al- 
ways a good play. So you see they wouldn’t ne- 
124 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

cessarily think it was a fake. It’s a pretty safe 
rule,” he went on, “ if you want a fake play to 
succeed, never to give it except when the fake part 
of it would be the natural thing to do. Otherwise 
your opponents will know it's a trick and be ready 
for it.” 

“ I see,” nodded Philip. “ Fll try and remem- 
ber that.” 

In this way Mr. Patterson trained the two quar- 
ter-backs, for he played no favorites and gave 
Stanton as much time as he did Philip. The black- 
board talks given to the whole squad were of 
somewhat different character. In them, the coach 
tried to emphasize the importance of each player's 
being at a given point at a given time in each 
play. 

“ You fellows may not appreciate how important 
this is. I tell you, Conway, for instance, that on 
that forty-two play, you must be five yards outside 
and back of your tackle when the pass is made. 
Now nine times out of ten you won't do any good 
there, and your tendency therefore will be to go 
somewhere else where you think you will be doing 
more good. But on the tenth time, that pass will 
be intercepted and your opponent will have a clear 
view for a touch-down if you're not in the position 
you should be.” 

Conway nodded. 


125 


PHILIP KENT 


“ In the old game, practically every man was ex- 
pected to get into every play on the offense, and 
all but three on the defense. But now that we 
have the forward pass, there is so much danger of 
its being a boomerang that it is necessary to detail 
certain men to look out for failures. That’s the 
most important part of the lesson that I’m teach- 
ing here to-night. For every offensive play I 
have worked out a defense which I think will 
take care of all mishaps if you all do your duty. 
If you do, it will be only superior playing on 
Windsor’s part that can beat us. And there won’t 
be any luck about it.” Then, branching from the 
general subject, he would illustrate play after play 
upon the board and ask each man what was ex- 
pected of him in a given formation. 

Under constant drill of this sort, in addition to 
the practical experience on the field, the Malvern 
team began to show promise of a very successful 
season. 

Its greenness was in a sense an asset. Having 
three veterans on the team to steady it, the 
newcomers brought an eagerness to learn and 
an enthusiasm for hard work to the task which 
in Mr. Patterson’s opinion outweighed the lack 
of experience from which most of them suf- 
fered. 

“ Don’t worry, Conway, because they don’t 
126 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


know a whole lot of football,” he said one night 
as he and the captain walked off the playing field 
together. 

“They will know enough by November 5th for 
all practical purposes, and you have a bunch there 
who will fight to the last minute of play. They 
show a good spirit.” 

“ I’m afraid that Windsor may take them off 
their feet in the first quarter.” 

“ I doubt it. You and Doane and Martin ought 
to be able to pull them together if anything of 
that sort threatens, and even if a green team does 
go up in the air for a few minutes it doesn’t get 
sullen the way a lot of veterans do. Give me for 
choice a green team with just enough veterans in 
it to flavor it.” 

At that moment Philip, who had delayed for a 
mouthful of oatmeal water, passed them hurrying 
to get off his wet things. The captain and the 
coach looked at his retreating back and then, as if 
moved by a common thought, looked at each other 
with a question hovering on the lips of each. Re- 
alizing that each had read the other’s thoughts, 
they laughed. 

“Well,” said Conway, “how about it? The 
time is getting short. Less than three weeks now, 
and it seems to me important that the team should 
have the benefit of playing every day behind the 
127 


PHILIP KENT 

quarter-back who will lead it in the game. Stan- 
ton or Kent ? ” 

Mr. Patterson nodded. “ I have felt that way 
for some time, but it is such a close race that I 
have hesitated to make my decision. I agree with 
you, though, that we should not put it off any - 
longer. Which one do you fancy ? ” 

“ Do you want me to decide?” asked Conway. 

“No, I won’t say that, but just tell me your 
feeling about the two.” 

Conway considered the subject for a few mo- 
ments without answering. 

“ Of course,” he broke out at last, “ I would 
naturally rather play Stanton. He’s a fifth former, 
and he deserves the place from sentimental reasons, 
if no other.” 

The coach nodded in agreement. 

“I think,” the captain went on, “it’s a mis- 
take to let a fourth former make the team, par- 
ticularly a kid like Kent, who seems so sure of 
himself. It’s apt to spoil him. Makes him too 
cocky.” 

Again Mr. Patterson nodded. “ Yes,” he said, 

“ those are good reasons, but after all they cannot 
be the deciding ones unless we consider the two 
candidates on a par as to their playing qualities. 
Under such conditions, of course, Stanton would 
get it.” 


128 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


11 Well,” said Conway with a somewhat sheepish 
grin, “ for the last ten days I confess I have felt 
that Kent is the better man of the two. Not quite 
so experienced ; not quite as good a field general ; 
much better at the forward pass ; and lately a 
fiend at tackling. I don’t know what got into the 
boy suddenly,” he added. 

The coach laughed knowingly. “ 1 thought it 
would come,” he said. “ In fact, I told him so. 
No boy who’s as keen on football as Kent is and 
who has the natural aptitude for the sport can fail 
to make a good tackier. It’s just a question of 
waking up to it. I saw the whole thing happen. 
He had been tackling all afternoon in his usual 
fumbling way ; then something made him angry, 
and he went after the runner as though he would 
tear him up. He didn’t have time to think about 
making the tackle; he just made it.” 

“ It was a beauty, too,” interjected Conway. “ I 
saw it.” 

“ It was, indeed ; and since he has found out 
how easy it is he naturally does it every time.” 

“So,” concluded Conway, reverting to their 
problem, “ I can’t get away from the feeling that 
Kent should have the place. Now,” he said, 
“ I’m glad that’s off my chest. How do you feel 
about it, sir ? ” 

“ Word for word the way you do,” said Mr. Pat- 
129 


PHILIP KENT 

terson. “ I think we shall have to give him the 
place.” 

“ All right, then.” Conway heaved a sigh of 
relief, mingled with a touch of regret. “ It’s 
going to be a blow to Stanton.” 

“ I wouldn’t make any announcement,” cau- 
tioned the coach. “Just play Kent in practice 
every day, and it will make it easier for the other. 
He will always be hoping that he may get back in 
the game.” 

As a result of this conversation Philip started 
the practice the next day. This inversion of the 
ordinary proceeding — for the post of honor had 
heretofore been Stanton’s — caused a little flicker 
of excitement through the school, but as the fifth 
former played during the latter half of each prac- 
tice, nothing much was thought of it until the 
next game. Philip started it and finished it, 
and acquitted himself well. For the first quarter 
he had kept wondering how soon Stanton would 
be sent in to take his place, and had played for all 
he was worth during the few moments which he 
thought had been allotted to him. As the game 
proceeded, however, and no signal of recall came 
to him from the side line, the matter passed from 
his mind, and it was not in fact until the whistle 
blew for the ending of the game that the stupen- 
dous truth was realized. He had actually played 
130 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

through the whole game. The lower school was 
in a tumult as a result, and Philip was mobbed by 
a throng of eager youngsters anxious to know if 
his position was permanent. 

“ I don’t know yet,” he said good humoredly, 
struggling to force his way through the eager 
crowd. 

“ How can I tell ? Stanton may go back there 
on Monday.” He spoke in this way, but it was not 
in this way that he felt. Somehow he knew that 
he had made good, and this feeling, repressed dur- 
ing the evening, broke out confidentially to The 
Minute, though even then he restrained it until 
he was safely tucked in bed and the lights were 
out. 

The last two weeks of the season were crowded 
to their fullest extent in polishing off the rougher 
edges of the team work. Mr. Patterson, who had 
borne the brunt of the coaching the whole season, 
was helped out, to his great relief, by various 
alumni who came up for a day or two at a time to 
do what they could. 

Momma Welsh, now a prominent member of 
the Varsity team, was himself caught in the tread- 
mill of preparation and could not spare the time 
for a visit, but made up for his absence by lengthy 
letters to Mr. Patterson which contained the latest 
confidential strategy of the football field as prac- 

131 


PHILIP KENT 


ticed in the big colleges. In this way the Mal- 
vern team secured several trick plays with which 
they hoped to slaughter Windsor. Monday had 
come, and likewise the succeeding days of the 
week, and Philip, far from being replaced by 
Stanton, was now left in charge of the team for 
the full period of practice. He had made good 
his boast. 

He had become a member of the school team 
in his fourth form year. Resplendent in his new 
uniform, he already felt the weight of the white 
felt letter which would decorate his sweater after 
the game. In his mind’s eye he could outline it 
upon the now vacant spot and felt that nothing 
short of a victory over Windsor would be a fit- 
ting accompaniment for that honored decoration. 

“ This time to-morrow,” said Bacon with ill- 
repressed excitement, “ we’ll know a lot more 
than we do to-night.” 

The occupants of Room B had come in to help 
The Minute put their champion satisfactorily to 
bed. 

“ You are right there,” said Philip soberly, as 
he stretched at ease under the covers, while the 
others sat around in various attitudes of respectful 
admiration. 

“ How do you feel ? ” said Tait. “ Nervous ? 
Just a bit excited ? ” 


132 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“ Oh, stop talking football/' said The Minute, 
who had appointed himself guardian over his 
roommate. “ Can’t you let Lippy forget his 
troubles for a minute ? ” 

“ That’s right,” broke in Bacon valiantly. 
“ Let’s think of something that’s less strenuous. 
By the way, Lippy, do you think to-morrow night 
you’ll feel strong enough to eat a bit of cake ? I 
ordered a large chocolate one stuffed with walnuts 
from Mrs. Lord yesterday.” Philip smacked his 
lips. 

“ I rather think so,” he said. “ Unless Windsor 
spoils my appetite you can put me down for half 
of it.” 

“ Look out for Pat and Kellar,” said Tait with 
a laugh, “ or they’ll each come in and take a 
half.” 

“ I’m going to ask them to the party,” said 
Baconfat loftily. 

“ Get out ! ” “ You’re not ! ” were the incredu- 

lous exclamations of his companions. 

“I am, too,” persisted Bacon. “Just to show 
that we don’t bear any hard feelings on account 
of the last time, and in appreciation of letting us 
off those extra five marks.” 

“ Do you think they’ll come?” asked The Min- 
ute, awed by the grandeur of his friend’s con- 
ception. 


i33 


PHILIP KENT 


“ Well,” said Bacon with a snort, “ if they’ll 
come unannounced and steal our cake, they’d be 
pretty short sports if they won’t take it when it’s 
given to them.” 


CHAPTER X 


AT WINDSOR 

It was Windsor’s turn to have the game on her 
home grounds, so that the buildings at Malvern 
witnessed a general exodus the morning of No- 
vember 5th. The team left at an early hour in 
order that some time would be given them to re- 
cuperate from the fatigue of the journey. Wind- 
sor was only thirty miles distant across country, 
but the single-track railroads which they were 
forced to take and the various changes to be made 
at junction points stretched the trip to two hours 
and a half. The school followed by a later train, 
scheduled to arrive just in time for lunch. The 
weather conditions were none of the best. Rain 
had fallen heavily in the middle of the week, so that 
the gridiron promised to be muddy. In anticipa- 
tion of such a condition Mr. Patterson had seen to it 
that extra long cleats had been placed on all shoes, 
and to make “ assurance doubly sure ” that all 
footwear had been attended to, made a last careful 
supervision as soon as the trunks had reached the 
quarters assigned to the team as a dressing-room. 
i35 


PHILIP KENT 


“Tm sorry,” said Mr. Fellowes, a Windsor 
master who had greeted the team on its arrival, 
“ that we could not put you in the gymnasium, 
where you would have had better accommodations, 
but our dressing-room is small, and I thought it 
just as well that the two teams should have sepa- 
rate quarters.” 

“ I think perhaps you were wise,” said Mr. Pat- 
terson laughingly. “ We don’t want the fight to 
begin before they get on the field.” 

“ Oh, it wasn’t that,” said Mr. Fellowes. “ Our 
boys would not be so discourteous ; but we thought 
you would feel more comfortable if you had quar- 
ters to yourselves. But I must apologize for the 
bathing facilities,” he added, throwing open an 
adjoining door. “ There is no shower bath in this 
building, and only one bath-tub. But, perhaps,” 
he said suavely, “ your boys won’t mind that.” 

Mr. Patterson cocked an eye at his companion 
and did what would be best described as “ bris- 
tling,” but the twinkle never left his eye. 

“ Of course,” he said with great cordiality, 
“ owing to your greater experience with boys I am 
willing to take your opinion on the subject.” Mr. 
Fellowes flushed and changed the subject. The 
team, scattered through the room unpacking their 
belongings, had listened with delight to this inter- 
change of civilities, and when Mr. Patterson went 
136 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


up to the schoolhouse to pay his respects to the 
head master, the room chuckled loudly. 

“ Trust old Pat,” said Conway, “ not to take 
any back talk from a Windsorite. I like their 
nerve, though, sticking us down in this hole. 
But it won’t help them any. Just remember this, 
fellows, when you get on the field, and soak them 
for it. Now, fellows,” he went on, “ before we 
scatter, remember that lunch is at twelve ; the 
game is called for two, so don’t walk around the 
place too much. Keep off your feet all you can. 
And Lippy, don’t let some polite Windsorite fool 
you by offering to show you the boat houses. One 
did that to Momma Welsh once, and he went 
along. The boat houses are a mile and a half 
away, down a steep hill, and when he finally got 
back he had no ‘ pep ’ left in him. So you watch 
out.” 

The hour or so before luncheon passed slowly. 
Windsor School did all it could to be hospitable, 
but when every boy from both camps has a chip 
on his shoulder, intercourse can never reach a very 
easy footing, and though the Malvern team took a 
perfunctory interest in viewing the various school 
buildings and one or two members of it who had 
known certain Windsorites at home wandered away, 
as a whole it revolved around itself in a little group. 
Lunch was sparingly eaten. Philip for one found 
i37 


PHILIP KENT 


that food tasted mostly like sawdust, but by dint 
of Mr. Patterson’s constant urging enough was con- 
sumed to stay them through the ordeal ahead. 
From the window as he was dressing Philip could 
see knots of gaily dressed people walking slowly 
to the field. Most of them bore the Windsor 
colors, but there were enough ribbons of blue and 
white in sight to make him feel not entirely alone 
in the enemy’s country. 

“ Two years ago,” he thought, “ at this time, I 
was walking to the field without a care on my 
shoulders except that I wanted Malvern to win, 
and now I have the whole thing on my shoulders. 
I can’t believe it.” 

Strangely, he found himself becoming very 
sleepy. He felt as though he would give any- 
thing, almost his chance to play in the game, if he 
could just stretch out and take half an hour’s 
snooze. This puzzled him and somewhat worried 
him. He stamped up and down trying to suppress 
the yawns which threatened to burst forth and 
which he felt would shame him. Mr. Patterson 
watched him for a moment and then came over. 

“ What’s the matter, Philip ? ” he said. “ Feel 
sleepy ? ” 

Philip stared at him with surprise. “ Why, 
yes,” he said. “ How did you guess it ? I’ve been 
wondering what’s the matter with me.” 

138 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“ Don’t let that feeling worry you,” said Mr. Pat- 
terson with an assuring tap on Philip’s shoulder. 
“ That just means you’re nervous and excited. It 
takes some boys some way and some another. I 
always used to feel sleepy myself.” 

“ Shall I get over it, do you think ? ” said Philip 
hesitatingly. 

“ Get over it ? ” remarked Mr. Patterson. “ The 
instant your foot touches that field and you hear 
both sides yelling at you, your brain will get 
crystal clear.” 

“ All ready, fellows,” called Conway from the 
doorway, where he was in consultation with a 
sweater-clad figure. “ The referee tells me they’re 
waiting for us.” 

Down the stairs they trooped with a clatter of 
cleated shoes — Conway, with a ball tucked under 
his arm, striding out in front. Then, as the last 
one cleared the doorway, their leader broke into a 
trot and they advanced on the field. An obliging 
official made way for them through the crowds ; 
they hopped over the encircling rope, and what 
from a distance had been to Philip a seething mass 
of people resolved itself into a clean bit of chalk- 
lined turf surrounded on all four sides at a respect- 
ful distance by a waving mass of color. In the 
far corner of the field the Windsor team was 
already busy at signal practice. Its substitutes, 
i39 


PHILIP KENT 

enveloped in blankets, squatted along the side 
line. 

Perry, the Malvern cheer leader, sprang to his 
feet at the first glimpse of the blue jerseys, and 
rallied the school in a long cheer. “Malvern! 
Malvern 1 Malvern I ” And Philip, as the team 
lined up for a few signals, felt the thrill of the 
cheer in his voice. 

It was a lowering day. Heavy clouds obscured 
the sun, and under foot, where the daily practice 
of a football season had worn the turf thin, the 
field gave promise of being extremely muddy and 
treacherous. 

Philip tested his cleats on a slippery spot and 
blessed Mr. Patterson for his precaution. Conway, 
with the opposing captain, had joined the officials 
in the center of the field for last instructions. 
Martin, whose duty it was to convert touch-downs 
into goals, was sending the pigskin merrily over 
the cross-bar at each attempt. Suddenly there 
was a stir from the crowd, a craning of necks and 
a settling back in seats. The captains were hurry- 
ing back to their respective teams. 

“ Windsor won the toss,” called Conway as he ap- 
proached. “ They kick off. We defend the north 
goal. Now, fellows, start right in on the jump, 
and surprise them.” 

In the front line of spectators, scorning all 
140 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


benches or the appeal of the fair sex which was 
represented in goodly numbers, Bacon, Tait and 
The Minute were sprawled on the grass as close to 
the side line as the officials would permit. 

“ They're off," said Bacon, with an air of de- 
tachment which he was in no way feeling. 

There was little wind, but Philip, recalling the 
instructions which Mr. Patterson had worked so 
hard to impress on his memory, signaled for a 
punt on the first down. Conway had caught 
the kick-off and run it back to the thirty yard 
line. 

“ I wouldn’t have done that," criticized Bacon, 
as the punt soared down the field. 

“ What signal would you have given ? " asked 
Tait. 

“ Any old play first. Just one to get the team 
together before punting. How about it, Mr. Pat- 
terson ? " he called to the coach, who was hurry- 
ing down the side line in order to keep opposite 
to the play. But whatever was the coach’s opinion 
as to that particular choice of signal, he had no 
time to answer the question. The signal had been 
given — what he was interested in was the result. 
With a wave of his hand, his eyes fixed down the 
field, he hurried on. 

Johnson, the Windsor full-back, was not per- 
haps as great a runner in a broken field as had 
141 


PHILIP KENT 


been Deaver of three years before, but Mr. Patter- 
son had heard enough accounts of his brilliant 
work in that regard to cause him anxiety. In a 
game between school teams the ability on the part 
of one player successfully to run back punts is 
often the deciding factor, not so much perhaps in 
the actual ground gained by this method, but in 
the resulting panic, which is apt to cause the other 
team to play below its real standard of ability. 
The Malvern team had shown a sufficiently sturdy 
defense during the season to make Mr. Patterson 
believe that it would be equal to the work of stop- 
ping any usual attack. What he was afraid of 
was the unusual, the disconcerting, and until he 
had seen Johnson in action he felt nervous. It 
happened, however, that on this particular occa- 
sion the ball came to Ward, at left half-back, and 
though the Windsor interference formed quickly, 
the runner succeeded in making but very little 
ground. 

A sigh of relief rose from the Malvern side of the 
field. The tension until the first play is success- 
fully over is always high. 

Windsor lost no time in putting the defense of 
Malvern to a test. The first play called for was 
aimed through Doane, at left tackle. The ball 
was snapped, the teams surged together. 

“ Good boy,” called Mr. Patterson, pounding the 
142 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


ground with his clenched fists as he squatted on 
the side line. “ That's the way." 

Doane had charged with the ball ; had thrown 
his opponent into the advancing runner, and the 
ball was downed for a loss. 

“ Second down ; twelve to gain/’ chanted the 
referee. 

A wide end run followed. For a moment the 
runner threatened to break away, but Potter, from 
his position as defensive half-back, checked his 
career with a vicious tackle. Third down, seven 
yards to gain, evidently looked like too much work 
to Blake of Windsor, and he signaled for a punt. 

“ Some kicker, that fellow," remarked Bacon 
enviously, as the ball sailed in a beautiful curve 
for a full forty yards. 

“ Not much better than Lou Rhoades," retorted 
Tait. 

“ Look how high it is, though," said Bacon crit- 
ically. “ His ends have all the time in the world 
to get under it." 

Rhoades and Philip were playing back. Philip 
made the catch. No sooner had the ball settled 
in his arms than “ Crash ! Crash ! " the Windsor 
ends had him. Then it was Windsor’s turn to 
cheer. 

There was little chance to run back that punt. 
Philip, though shaken, jumped into place, took a 
M3 


PHILIP KENT 


swift survey of the field, and barked out a signal. 
The ball was on his forty yard line. Again the 
signal was for a punt. 

For the succeeding plays both quarter-backs 
were evidently sparring for an opening. Punt 
followed punt in quick succession, with little ad- 
vantage to either side. Then Rhoades placed one 
of his low driving kicks to such advantage that 
Blake could not reach it on the fly. It struck the 
ground and rolled a full fifteen yards before the 
quarter-back could retrieve it. Three plays that 
had failed to gain ground forced a punt, and this 
time Philip, as he lined up his team, realized that 
he was at liberty to pick any signal he thought 
would gain. 

The ball was five yards past the center of the 
field. He saw his chance. 

“ Now all together, fellows,” he said. “ Thirty- 
six ; twenty-two ; ninety-three ; eighty-two.” 

It was the signal for the fake kick. Mr. Patter- 
son on the side line heard the numbers and smiled 
with approval. It was the psychological play. 
As Rhoades backed into position it was evident 
that the Windsor team was expecting another 
kick. 

Quickly the ball came to Philip. Quickly the 
Windsor line charged ; and, stepping two paces 
backward, Philip hurled the ball straight and 
144 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


swift to where Captain Conway should be. Too 
late to intercept the play, the Windsor team saw 
its mistake. Looking over his shoulder without 
shortening his stride, Conway judged the ball, 
reached and grasped it. Blake and Johnson, 
from their position in the back field, cut across to 
intercept the runner. Too late to interfere with 
the catch, they nevertheless saved a touch-down. 
But Conway had crossed the twenty yard line be- 
fore they downed him. 

The Malvern crowd, which in uncontrollable 
excitement had risen to its feet as the pass started, 
shook the air with shrieks of joy at its complete 
success. 

“ That was a pass,” exclaimed Bacon ecstatic- 
ally. “I could hug Lippy for that.” And even 
Stanton, huddled on the side line in his sweater, 
overcame his longing to be in the game sufficiently 
to give Philip full credit for the pass. 

“ Pm glad he’s in there,” he said. “ I couldn’t 
have done that in a thousand years.” 

The ball was on the twenty yard line, it is true, 
and though shaken by this unexpected gain, the 
Windsor team rallied to the defense, prepared to 
fight for every foot of ground. 

“ Ninety-one ; thirty-eight ; sixty-two.” The 
team sprang into position. Crash ! Martin at 
right guard made for a moment an opening, and 
145 


PHILIP KENT 

Rhoades, slipping through, gained a precious four 
yards. 

“ That’s the way,” Philip shouted. '‘They’re 
on the run, fellows. Keep it up.” 

He sent a quick play through the other side for 
an equal gain. 

“ Third and two,” said the referee with a glance 
at the flags. 

Windsor was still fighting, but Malvern could not 
be denied. Rhoades made it a first down through 
right guard. 

“ Strategy now. Strategy,” said Mr. Patterson 
under his breath, as he saw that Philip was evi- 
dently at a loss for a signal. “ Waste a play now 
around the end in order to open up that line. 
Jove, if I could only tell him that,” he said fever- 
ishly. 

There may be something in telepathy ; at all 
events Philip evidently had somewhat the same 
thought. He did not have the courage of his con- 
victions to the extent of signaling for an end 
play, but he did send Conway outside of tackle, 
which had somewhat the result that Mr. Patterson 
had expected. To tell the truth, Windsor was 
hard put to know what to defend against. The 
one taste of Philip’s ability as a forward passer 
had made them afraid of him, so that the line was 
now somewhat weakened against plunging plays. 

146 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

Feeling this, Philip gave a signal for a fake 
pass. 

“ Look out for a forward pass,” yelled Blake 
from his position in the back field. Philip seized 
the ball, poised it as though to make the play, and 
then shot it to Conway for a sharp plunge through 
tackle. 

“That's the boy,” screamed Baconfat. It was 
a clean five yard gain. The ball was on the four 
yard line. A hush settled upon both cheering 
sections as the teams lined up for the final effort. 
The silence continued on the one side and deep- 
ened into gloom, while on the other not even the 
Malvern cheer leader could restore order after the 
next play. 

“ No use wasting chances on a pass now,” Philip 
had decided to himself. “ We can buck it out,” 
and staking all in this belief, he sent Rhoades 
through center. 

“ Touch-down ! ” screamed Tait, The Minute and 
Bacon in unison before they were engulfed in a 
riotous mob. Touch-down it was, but only by 
inches. Inches were enough, however, and six 
points were chalked up to the credit of the Blue 
and White. 

“ This is going to be easy,” declared the side 
lines. “ We’re going to run up a big score, aren’t 
we, Mr. Patterson ? ” 


i47 


PHILIP KENT 


Mr. Patterson shook his head. “ We had them 
on the run then, but there’s no saying whether we 
can hold it.” 

“ Still, a score in ten minutes,” retorted Bacon, 
and then lost interest in his own conversation as 
he watched Martin prepare to kick the goal. Mar- 
tin took his time in sighting the ball, but there was 
no evidence of nervousness in his good right foot 
as it swung straight and true to send the pigskin 
over the bar for the extra point. 

A few indecisive plays following the kick-off 
ended the quarter, and the intermission evidently 
did the Windsor team good. It gave them a 
chance to recover from the panic into which the 
events of the last few moments had thrown them. 
Mr. Patterson had been correct. Malvern was 
evidently not going to have the game all its own 
way. 

Securing the ball on a fumble in the center of 
the field, Blake opened his real attack, and in 
three consecutive plays gained fifteen yards. 
Then Conway broke through, stopped the runner 
for a loss, and Windsor’s chance for a moment was 
gone. But enough had been seen of the strength 
of that attack to cause Malvern to leave its easy 
seat and sit once more on the throne of appre- 
hension. 

Philip, failing to gain, called for a punt. 

148 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


It was a good kick, so far as distance was con- 
cerned, but a trifle low. Johnson, cutting across 
the field, caught it in his full stride. The Mal- 
vern end had been drawn in. Turning quickly, 
he slipped. Before he could regain his balance, 
Blake hit him and Johnson sailed by unimpeded. 
The straight arm accounted for Conway, who 
checked but could not stop the runner. Then 
Philip, coming up at full speed, put into practice 
what he had so recently learned, and Johnson was 
stopped. 

Still, the run had brought the play well into 
Malvern's territory. Blake instantly tried a for- 
ward pass. Potter, unable to intercept it, bat- 
ted it down. Second down ; ten to gain, while 
the adherents of the Blue and White, their hearts 
still in their mouths from its near success, yelled 
their delight at its failure. In no wise discon- 
certed, and relying on the unexpectedness of it, 
Blake called for another pass in exactly the same 
place. 

This time it succeeded, and the ball was fifteen 
yards nearer the Malvern goal. Mr. Patterson, 
squatting on the side line, plucked nervously at 
the grass, inadvertently secured a piece of mud 
instead, and spat it out in disgust. His actions 
were purely reflex. His mind was on the rapidly 
crumbling Malvern defense. 

149 


PHILIP KENT 

In the old days before the introduction of the 
forward pass, a team could fight with its face to 
the front knowing that only superior force or 
strategy could overcome it. But now it is not 
enough to defend from the front. The pass has in- 
troduced aerial warfare into the game, and a line 
may be defended ever so valiantly only to find its 
best efforts of no avail by means of an attack 
which it is powerless to prevent and unequipped 
to meet successfully. The nervousness that 
Philip’s pass had induced in the Windsor team 
early in the game was reproduced feature for fea- 
ture in Malvern, and Blake took full advantage 
of it. 

Not that the Blue and White was now being 
driven back entirely by the superior and diverse 
play of its opponents. Luck was taking a hand 
in the game. Once, Conway batted down a for- 
ward pass, only to have the ball fall straight into 
the waiting hands of Windsor. Then, with the 
ball only fifteen yards from the last line, as 
though this had not been enough luck for the 
moment, an on-side kick, surrounded as it fell by 
players of both sides, fumbled from one to the 
other without touching the ground, landed at last 
across the Malvern goal line in the arms of the 
enemy. 

Windsor had scored ! 

150 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


Windsor had scored, and a moment later had 
tied the score. Mr. Patterson took his hat off, 
crumpled it in both hands, and threw it to the 
ground. 

“ Jove, what tough luck.” 


CHAPTER XI 


THE TURNING POINT 

The side lines were echoing this sentiment uni- 
versally, but Conway wasted no time on that 
point of view. He walked up and down behind 
his wilting team lined up between the goal posts 
and berated them. 

“ What’s the matter with you fellows ? You’re 
not fighting a bit. You, Potter, should have had 
your hands on that ball. Why didn’t you squeeze 
it? And you, Doane, and Martin, and the rest 
of the line. You’re not getting through at all. 
You give him all the time he needs for a forward 
pass. Hurry him a little.” 

The team was wilted, but far from beaten, and 
at the captain’s words heads straightened up, fists 
clenched and lips tightened in a line of stern re- 
solve. 

The unexpected tide of affairs had dulled the 
Malvern cheering or at least dulled its enthusiasm, 
though not the volume of noise, for the indefat- 
igable Perry was drawing the long Malvern cheer 
with dogged persistence from throats which had 
152 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


already begun to crack and thicken. Windsor, 
on the other hand, rejuvenated, was barking out 
its staccato cheer without much need of help from 
the leaders, and Dr. Percival felt moved to shed a 
benign smile upon the masters and boys grouped 
around him. 

“ I think / 7 he said, “ this may prove to be an 
interesting game after all . 77 

Across the field under the shadow of the big 
Blue and White banner, Dr. Wallace had for- 
gotten entirely that he was a head master and was 
as nervously excited as the youngest kid in the 
first form. 

“ Oh, Mr. Patterson / 7 he called, as the teams 
walked out to resume the game ; and then, as 
though unable to sit still, he did not wait for the 
under masters response but hurried across the 
field to him. 

“ What’s the trouble ? 77 he said. “Our boys 
aren't going to be beaten, are they, surely ? 77 

Mr. Patterson, with his much abused hat stuck 
on the back of his head, smiled grimly. “ They’re 
not beaten yet by a long shot, sir / 7 he said. “ In 
fact, so far I think we have played the better 
game. Our score was earned, while theirs was 
not . 77 

“ Stage fright ? 77 queried the Gorgon. 

“ Yes ; that and hard luck . 77 

i53 


PHILIP KENT 


11 Well,” said the head master, “ I don’t know 
what it is you say to the teams between the halves, 
but ” — and his eyes twinkled, “ if there’s anything 
that ean be said which will get a team over stage 
fright, you have my permission to — as they say, 
go as far as you like. We can't afford to lose 
this game. My heart is set on winning it.” 

The half ended without further scoring. Philip 
in those remaining few minutes had shown real 
generalship. Knowing that his team was in 
danger of demoralization, he refused to give Wind- 
sor any chance to increase her score if it was pos- 
sible to avoid it. Getting the ball on a punt, he 
gave the surest signals, not with so much the idea 
of gaining any appreciable ground as to gain just 
enough in his three trys to make a first down, and 
thus hold the ball. 

When the signal sounded at the end of the first 
half, Mr. Patterson joined him before he left the 
field and walked up to the dressing-room with 
him. Hot, mud-stained and weary, Philip looked 
into the master’s face for a sign of approval, and 
he found it there. 

“ You’re doing great work, Philip ; better even 
than I expected of you, so far as your choice of 
signals is concerned.” Philip heaved a sigh of re- 
lief. The thought of Stanton had not been en- 
tirely absent from his mind. 

154 





GO RIGHT AFTER THEM ” 









. I 





















* 






































































































































































































IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“ Did I make any mistakes ?” he said. 

“ No bad ones. The chief thing I want to talk 
to you about is pulling your team together.” 

“ What’s that?” broke in Conway, who joined 
them and had overheard the last words. 

“ We can win this game, John,” said the coach 
with emphasis. “ You’re playing the better game, 
if you just pull your team together.” 

“Windsor didn’t have any license to score,” 
growled the captain. 

“ Of course not,” affirmed the coach. “ You just 
handed them seven points.” 

“ It was hard luck,” broke in Philip. 

“ Of course it was,” retorted Mr. Patterson, and 
he turned on the speaker with severity. “ But are 
you going to be content to go back to Malvern 
and say that it was just hard luck that beat you? 
It was hard luck, but if all of you men had done 
all you should, there wouldn’t have been any hard 
luck. Now,” he went on more quietly, “ don’t 
waste any time next half. Go right after them as 
soon as the whistle blows. I want to see another 
score in the first ten minutes. And Philip, don’t 
be afraid to use your forward pass. They don’t 
seem to have very much defense for it.” 

The team trooped into the dressing-room for 
their fifteen minutes of well earned rest. The 
mud with which they were plentifully covered 
i55 


PHILIP KENT 

had dried on their hands and faces, and gave the 
whole team a grayish look. This, with the help of 
a sponge, a bucket of water which was being 
passed from man to man, and the use of a rough 
towel, was quickly removed, and the freshness 
which this treatment imparted to the feelings of 
the players was due not a little to the comparative 
cheerfulness of countenance which resulted as the 
red blood could be seen flushing the erstwhile 
gray cheeks. 

“ We have only a minute now,” said Mr. Patter- 
son, “ so get busy cleaning your cleats out. We 
don’t want any slipping the next half. And then 
I want a word with you.” 

When the needs of the players had been admin- 
istered to, quiet settled on the room. Mr. Patter- 
son, one foot on a bench, gave them his last 
advice. 

“ Get out of your head,” he said, “ that this 
game is lost, or anywhere near it. So far as earned 
scores are concerned, we lead seven to nothing. 
But I want you to be sure not to hand them 
another touch-down the way you did that last one. 
The back field must go after forward passes more 
quickly, and, for goodness sake, when you get an 
on-side kick in your hands, Potter, don’t let 
Windsor steal it away from you.” 

The referee poked his head in the door. 

156 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“ Time’s up,” he said. “Three minutes more 
only.” 

“ All right. Come on, fellows. Now remem- 
ber, n and Conway jumped on a bench, “I want 
you to fight, fight, and no let up. They scored 
because we thought they were easy. Now fight ! ” 

He jumped down and led the way to the field. 
The cheer which greeted the team, though full of 
encouragement and loud enough to put heart into 
the most doubting player, lacked entirely the ir- 
responsibleness of the cheering which had greeted 
the team on its first appearance. It had taken on 
a dull, sullen note, which roused Philip’s fighting 
blood in a way unknown to him before. 

“ Do you hear that? ” said Conway, swinging in 
his tracks. “ They are back of you fellows. They 
are back of you, and are you going to throw them 
down ? ” 

A growl of dissent greeted him, and, satisfied, he 
led the way on the field. 

“ Well, Mr. Patterson,” said the Doctor, “ did 
you do what I told you ? ” 

“ I think so ; at least I did my best. We may 
get beaten, but we are going to fight.” 

The first clash of the teams showed that not 
Malvern alone had been talked to. When a tackle 
was made there was a viciousness, a sureness with 
which the runner was dragged down which had 
i57 


PHILIP KENT 


been missing before. When the lines charged, 
with advantage now on one side, now on the other, 
the player who was borne back was more often 
than not out of the play. Sensing this difference 
in the attitude of the players, the side lines grew 
silent. For a few plays neither team could gain 
substantial ground. A run, a plunge, a kick, 
varied occasionally, when the opportunity pre- 
sented itself, by a forward pass. 

“ Fight, fellows,” growled Philip ; and, signaling 
to Rhoades for a pass, he plunged into the oppos- 
ing guard to help Martin force him back. A yard 
here, a yard there, gained by plunging, a few yards 
gained at a time on the interchange of kicks, and 
the advantage seemed to sway perceptibly toward 
the wearers of the Blue and White. 

Standing just in Windsor’s territory, Philip 
hurled a short forward pass for a ten yard gain. 
The dead-lock seemed broken. Conway, eel-like, 
slipped through right tackle for ten yards, carry- 
ing the defensive half-back with him by sheer 
strength. Again Philip shot a short forward pass 
for a gain. Windsor was fighting valiantly, but 
apparently in vain. 

“ They’re breaking. They’re breaking,” shrieked 
Baconfat, losing entire control of himself. “ Put 
it to them, Lippy. You’ve got them.” 

The pace was too quick to last. Ward, the Wind- 
158 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


sor half-back, anticipated the next pass and inter- 
cepted it, and the Malvern crowd, which had half 
risen in its seats ready to greet the touch-down 
which seemed imminent, sank back with a groan 
and a growl at being thus cheated. 

“ It's all right,” Mr. Patterson called back to the 
Doctor's party as he passed them. “ That shows, 
what we can do. We'll take it over yet.” 

It was not in the nature of things for the 
Malvern team not to be disappointed, and for a 
few moments after this setback it wavered danger- 
ously. Windsor, correspondingly elated at being 
saved from disaster, renewed the fight with re- 
doubled energy, and now Malvern had to bear the 
brunt of an attack just as vicious, just as much 
thrust home as her own. 

Even with the advantage of fighting in the 
enemy's territory and therefore being relieved 
from the necessity of guarding against the forward 
pass, it was all Conway and his team-mates could 
do to prevent being driven into the dangerous 
ground. Malvern did rally — did check the ad- 
vance, but the resulting punt which Blake called 
for, swiftly followed up by his ends, gave the ball to 
Malvern within fifteen yards of her own goal line. 

Philip glanced down the field. 

He could never hope to carry the ball that dis- 
tance without sacrificing too much of the energy 
i59 


PHILIP KENT 


of his men. The glance behind him at the goal 
posts, however, caused him to make the attempt 
to gain some ground before punting. It was hard 
work. The ball was in Malvern's territory and 
Windsor intended to keep it there. Three attempts 
still left four yards necessary for the first down, 
and Philip was forced to call for a punt. The pass 
to Rhoades was high. The Windsor team had 
charged desperately. Rhoades hurried "and his 
kick was poor — a slanting, twisting punt toward 
the side of the field carrying not more than thirty 
yards. Johnson saw his chance. Risking a 
fumble, he started for it at full speed, caught it 
within a foot of the ground, almost losing his 
balance in the effort, and sped on. The Malvern 
ends had overrun him, taken by surprise by the 
shortness of the punt, and in a moment he had 
dodged a would-be tackier, the only one to reach 
him, and was passing unopposed down the field. 
The play had happened so quickly, so far to the 
other side of the field from which the punt had 
been made, that Philip and the Malvern backs 
had no chance to intercept the runner. Unop- 
posed, Johnson swept down the field. Conway 
made a valiant attempt to catch him, but in vain, 
and before the Malvern spectators realized that the 
punt had been caught, Windsor had scored her 
second touch-down. 


160 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


The wearers of the tri-color were as much sur- 
prised as Malvern, and for a moment there was 
dead silence. Then bedlam broke loose, and even 
the missing of the goal made little difference to the 
steady outpouring of cheers. Two plays later, the 
quarter ended. 

“ Aren’t we ever going to get the breaks of this 
game? ” stormed Bacon bitterly. “ I never saw a 
team in suph confounded hard luck.” 

“ Punk playing, I’d call it,” said Tait dis- 
gustedly. 

“I don’t know,” said The Minute dispassion- 
ately. “ 1 don’t see how anybody could have 
stopped him, the way things happened.” 

On the field Conway was raging. “ We’ll lick 
them yet, fellows,” he said, as he went from man to 
man slapping him on the back. “ That’s only thir- 
teen to seven. We’ve got a whole fifteen minutes.” 

The unexpected reverse had done the Malvern 
team good. It had aroused the fighting spirit 
which Mr. Patterson had been watching for all the 
season and without which he had never felt confi- 
dent of the team’s chances. As a unit they fore- 
bore to blame any one for the mishap. 

“ Hard luck, Lou,” said Philip. “ That sort of 
thing wouldn’t happen once in a thousand times. 
It wasn’t your fault any more than it was the 
fault of all of us.” 

161 


PHILIP KENT 

“ Hang it all,” said Rhoades miserably. 

“ Well, let’s get after them now. It only takes 
one touch-down.” 

Mr. Patterson from the side line, bitter as he was 
at the chain of circumstances which had put 
Windsor in the lead, viewed with satisfaction the 
businesslike way in which the team took its place 
for the opening of the last quarter. It was too 
much to expect, perhaps, that the boys could pull 
out a victory in the few minutes remaining, but 
hope died hard and he could not but feel that 
Malvern might yet return a winner. Where he 
had expected the team to be weak, it had proved 
unexpectedly strong. Philip’s handling of the 
various situations which had confronted him was 
all that any reasonable coach could expect from 
the quarter-back of a school team. He felt he 
had made no mistake in backing Kent for the 
position. 

“ Jove,” he said, as he strode up and down, im- 
patiently waiting for the whistle. “ I wish we 
could play this game over again. I know we 
could win it under ordinary circumstances. I 
can’t see a position in which Windsor is really 
stronger than we are.” 

Behind him on the crowded benches a bubble 
of chatter arose. The lead had changed hands so 
often and so quickly that the school was at a loss 
162 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


to know what to expect. Victory might perch on 
either team, and whether to look forward to a 
doleful return in defeat, or a triumphant progress 
as conquerors, was something which the keenest 
mind present could not foresee. Dr. Wallace 
turned to the master beside him. 

“Sometimes,” he said, “ I really feel ashamed 
of the way these games arouse me. I am an old 
enough man to know that this is nothing but a 
game, and supposed to be only an afternoon’s en- 
tertainment. My reason tells me that when I 
stop to think, but no matter how I school myself 
beforehand I never go through one of these after- 
noons without being thoroughly convinced before 
the game is half over that it is absolutely the 
most important thing that ever happened.” 

Mr. Richardson laughed. “ It only goes to 
show that the boy in us dies hard,” he said, “ and 
for my part I always pity the man who can no 
longer be taken out of himself by such an occa- 
sion.” 

Dr. Wallace chuckled. “ Thank you,” he said. 
“ It is very satisfactory to be backed up in that 

manner. Still ” he started to speak, then after 

a glance at the field settled in his seat. “ They’re 
going to begin again,” he said. “ Let’s postpone 
that discussion.” 

The muddy field had played havoc with the 
163 


PHILIP KENT 


fresh looking jerseys of the two teams. The white 
stripes of Malvern had dissolved under a coating 
of dirt into the adjacent blue, which in turn had 
taken on a gray tinge. In fact, but that the dirt 
which covered the Windsor players was of a no- 
ticeably red shade, thanks to the foundation of 
their red jerseys, it would have taken more than a 
casual glance to distinguish between the oppo- 
nents. Malvern lined up with determination to 
score written upon the face of every player. 
Windsor, with equal doggedness, settled itself in 
place to hold its advantage. Both teams were 
weary, but neither intended to yield if resistance 
were possible. 

The last quarter had ended with the ball in 
Windsor’s possession on her thirty yard line. 
Blake was determined to give Malvern the least 
possible chance of scoring and planned his plays 
accordingly. 

“ Hold the ball, fellows,” he said. “ Make it 
sure every time.” 

Windsor gained, but at the expense of much 
hard work. Malvern fought for every yard of 
ground. As play succeeded play Philip became 
nervous. With every yard that he was driven 
back there was less chance for Malvern to secure 
the ball sufficiently close to the center of the field 
to warrant the legitimate use of the forward pass. 

164 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


It was imperative if Malvern expected to score 
again that this slow advance of Windsor should 
be stopped at once. Time was passing. 

“ Get into it, Martin,” he called, slapping the 
right guard on the back. “ We must hold them 
here and now. It won’t do us any good fifteen 
yards farther on.” 

Under his constant urging the Windsor gains 
grew shorter and shorter. The very intensity of 
Blake’s desire to hold the ball for as long a period 
of play as possible led to Malvern’s first chance. 
If the Windsor quarter-back, relying upon his de- 
fense, had elected to punt when near the center of 
the field, his speedy ends might have downed the 
Malvern back well within the fifteen yard line. 

Then, always relying upon his defense, Malvern 
would in turn have been forced to kick, and 
Windsor would have again gained possession of the 
ball, with no loss of ground but with several of the 
minutes gone that were so precious to Malvern. 

Instead of that, lured on by the constant 
though small gains which the team was able to 
make, he had held the ball well into Malvern’s 
territory. -Then, with the stiffening of the defense 
of the Blue and White, he found himself on Mal- 
vern’s thirty-five yard line, third down, and six 
yards to go. Even here a high punt would have 
accomplished the same purpose as an earlier kick, 
165 


PHILIP KENT 


with even more sureness, but the possibility of an 
additional score overcame his policy of pure de- 
fensive play. 

He elected to try a forward pass. 

To a team that has been fighting desperately in 
what has seemed the last ditch, the confusing ele- 
ments of football become clear. It is as though 
fatigue and intensity of purpose had refined the 
mental processes and made not only the actions, 
but the thoughts of an opponent, easily foreseen. 
Malvern was literally waiting for that forward 
pass. 

Where earlier in the game it doubtless would 
have succeeded for at least the actual distance that 
the ball was thrown, for the pass was a perfect 
one, Conway not only was in position to knock it 
down, but arrived in time to secure the ball him- 
self. Malvern's ball on the twenty-five yard line ! 

The Windsor goal looked very far away. How 
much time there was remaining Philip did not 
know, but he felt that there was none too much 
to accomplish what he wanted. Conway, sent 
through right tackle, the weakest point in the 
Windsor line, gained five yards. Potter, on a 
wide run down the opposite end, made it a first 
down, but then the Windsor defense tightened. 
Two attempts gained little. 

Philip took his courage in both hands. It was 
1 66 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


evident that in order to win, he must risk losing 
by a larger score. Windsor's line, though pene- 
trable, could not be pierced for gains sufficiently 
large to carry the ball over in the remaining min- 
utes. His only chance was by the use of the for- 
ward pass. Philip looked longingly to the side 
lines as though he asked for the support of the 
coach in his decision. He felt himself that this 
was the only course to be followed, but he desper- 
ately needed the approval of an older and wiser 
head. 

“ Here goes," he said to himself, as the team 
lined up. “ Twenty-five ; forty-eight ; sixty-two ; 
twelve." It was the long forward pass to the left 
side of the field. As Conway heard the signal, an 
impulse was born in him to object. Then, re- 
membering the coach’s advice not to interfere un- 
less Kent seemed to lose his head, he settled back 
in his place to see the play through. With the 
snap of the ball he started. The Windsor end, 
diagnosing the play correctly as a forward pass, 
made for his immediate opponent, believing that 
the Malvern end would be the one expected to 
make the play. Conway sped past him as though 
on wings. Philip, backing away from would-be 
tacklers, delayed the pass as long as possible, and 
then, with all the skill that he possessed, hurled 
the ball hard and true down the field. The spec- 
167 


PHILIP KENT 


tators on both sides rose to their feet. Instinctively 
they felt that this would be the turning point of 
the game. This pass, successfully completed, 
would imbue Malvern with an enthusiasm which 
nothing could stop short of a touch-down. Un- 
completed, or a failure, the pendulum of optimism 
would swing to the wearers of the tri-color, and 
defeat would be Malvern’s portion. Taken some- 
what unawares by the extreme length of the pass, 
Windsor had but two players in a position to in- 
tercept it. Fast and hard they came to the point 
of danger. Conway, running at his topmost 
speed, had, after one glance at the far flung ball, 
trusted to his judgment of distance and raced, 
without a further look, for the spot where he felt 
the ball would fall. Hard on his heels came both 
teams, the one eager to retrieve the error, the 
other determined to prevent interference with 
their captain. 

For a long moment the result of the play hung 
in the balance. To the spectators it seemed as 
though the ball floated interminably in the air ; 
so also it seemed to the Windsor backs, who saw 
with every stride of the Malvern captain that he 
might reach it before it fell. 

To Conway, on the other hand, it seemed to be 
passing and falling with the speed of a bullet. 
Could he reach the spot before it touched the 
1 68 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


ground ? On the side lines Mr. Patterson, on tip- 
toe, utterly unconscious of what he was doing, 
was straining every muscle in a subconscious effort 
to urge the runner on. 

“ Hurry,” he said between clenched lips. 
“ Hurry, and you’ll get it. You’ve got it ! ” 
sprang from his lips in a yell of delight at the 
very next moment. 

With one last glance over his shoulder, Conway 
judged the falling ball. In his very stride he 
leaped upward and onward, and his lean, brown 
hands grasped and held the ball. The impetus 
of his leap overbalanced him. As he struck the 
ground, Johnson and Ward hurled themselves 
upon him. The three went down with a crash, 
which jarred Conway from head to foot, but the 
captain could afford to smile, for the ball was 
tucked in the crook of his elbow under his right 
breast, and his shoulder was resting on Windsor’s 
twenty yard line. His team flung themselves 
upon him. 

“ Great work, Cap.” “ Beautiful catch.” “ Now 
we’ve got them.” 

“ You bet we have,” retorted Conway, jumping 
to his feet. “ We’ve got them on the run.” 

As the teams lined up, the linesman hurried 
into the field of play. “ Three minutes left,” he 
said. 


PHILIP KENT 

11 Only three minutes,” called Blake. “ We’ll 
hold them, fellows. They can’t do that again. 
Hold them.” 

“ Three minutes,” called Philip exultingly. 
“ Three minutes. That’s two more than we need. 
Come on, fellows, and put it over.” 

A feeling of confidence suddenly permeated 
every fiber of Philip’s being. As he surveyed the 
players of both teams standing tense in their 
places, he felt as though he held the result of the 
game in the hollow of his hands. Instinctively 
he knew the proper play to give. He could al- 
most map out, so clearly did he appreciate the sit- 
uation, the result of the successive plays he in- 
tended to make use of. On the side lines, Mr. 
Patterson was chewing his fingers in an ecstasy of 
anxiety lest Philip fail in generalship at this 
crucial moment — lest, elated with the success of 
the last play, he be led to repeat it. 

“ Mix ’em up, boy,” he almost shouted. 

Just then Philip looked around at his backs, 
and the expression of his face, serene, confident, 
reassured the coach. It was the face of one who 
knew what he wanted to accomplish and ex- 
actly how to accomplish it. 

Crash ! With the snap of the ball, Martin and 
the tackier at his side had plunged across the 
space which separated them from their opponents. 

170 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


A little uncertain as to what they had to meet, 
the Windsor line hesitated for the fatal fraction of 
an instant in its charge. Rhoades, with the ball 
firmly gripped, plunged ahead. He met a yield- 
ing mass, which split and crumbled under the 
force of his rush. Checked for a moment by the 
impact, he nevertheless kept his feet and surged 
on. He felt arms clinging around his waist. 
They slipped to his thighs, to his knees, and he 
was free. Blake, running in, hurled himself at 
the runner’s feet. Rhoades stumbled, staggered 
and went down under the attack of the rest of the 
Windsor team, but ten yards of the remaining 
distance had been put behind him. 

Impatient at delay, Philip grabbed the full-back 
by his jersey and pulled him to his feet, almost 
before the referee had called the ball down. 

“ Come on, boys, we’ve got them ; we’ve got 
them,” he chanted, and rattled out his next sig- 
nals — this time, a forward pass. It was a play 
specially devised by Mr. Patterson for such an oc- 
casion, intended more as a feint than as an actual 
means of gaining ground ; to be used where a for- 
ward pass would unsettle an opponent’s defense 
and yet one which held the minimum amount of 
danger of losing the ball. With the Windsor 
backs guarding the two ends, who stood across the 
goal line ready to receive the ball, it was an easy 
i/i 


PHILIP KENT 


matter to make a short toss to Potter just across 
the scrimmage line, where he stood unguarded. It 
was only a four yard gain, but it completed the 
demoralization of the tri-color. On the side 
lines, both schools had congregated opposite the 
play. 

“ Stop them, Windsor, hold them, hold them,” 
implored with one voice the backers of that team. 
Across the field Malvern, tense with excitement, 
grew dumb. The team needed no urging at that 
moment. For two plays Windsor braced. Rhoades, 
through center, gained a scant yard. Potter, on a 
straight buck from his position, was stopped in his 
tracks. As he straightened up after the last play, 
Philip keenly surveyed the disposition of his op- 
ponent’s forces. Four yards to go for a touch- 
down. Windsor, encouraged by this show of de- 
fense, and believing firmly that through the line 
Malvern intended to score, crouched closer to the 
threatened point of attack. 

Philip smiled. “ Twenty-one ; ninety-three ; 
^ sixty-four ; forty-five.” 

He seized the ball from his center, and so far as 
Windsor could see, passed it to Rhoades. Rhoades 
plunged ahead. The Windsor team surged to 
meet him. Philip stepped back and straightened 
up. Too late, Windsor discovered that he still 
held the ball. With an easy toss, he passed it 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


over the heads of the struggling line to where 
Conway, unguarded and alone, stood on the goal 
line. 

Malvern had scored. 


i73 


CHAPTER XII 


THE WHITE M 

It was a foregone conclusion that after this bril- 
liant success Martin would kick the goal, which 
assured victory to Malvern. In fact, it took the 
united efforts of the team, the coach and even Dr. 
Wallace, to say nothing of the stern threats of the 
officials to forfeit the game, to clear the field long 
enough to allow Martin to kick it. As the real- 
ization burst upon the school that the score was 
tied, the boys, as though actuated by a common 
spring, had descended upon the gridiron with 
more suddenness than could be shown even by a 
swarm of locusts. 

“ Get back, fellows, get back/’ pleaded Conway. 
“The score’s only a tie. We must kick that 
goal.” 

At length enough quiet was restored to allow 
Martin to do that which he had to do, and all 
credit to him, in view of the vital importance of 
the goal and the nerve-racking situation around 
him ; for he sent the ball over the cross-bar with 
as much coolness as he would have done it in 
i74 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

practice on his home field. Amid another out- 
burst of joy from his adherents, he ran back to the 
center of the field, being pounded all the way 
upon his back by his enthusiastic captain, who 
had held the ball for him. 

Practically, the game was over. Windsor had 
thirty seconds in which to reverse the decision, 
but it was a beaten team. The referee's whistle, a 
perfunctory cheer for each other by each team, 
and Conway, with a yell of delight, giving utter- 
ance to the exultation which could be restrained 
no longer, rushed off the field, accompanied by his 
team. Rushed, I say, but it was only an attempt 
to do so. The school frustrated any attempt of 
that sort. Conway and the others had not made 
fifteen yards before one and all, protesting and 
laughing, they were overcome by the thronging 
crowds, lifted shoulder high, and carried in tri- 
umph to the dressing-room. 

“ Whew ! ” said Conway, as released from his 
perilous perch he sank upon the bench. “ That 
was a game ! ” And then, as the full realization 
of the victory reached his mind, he leaned back 
against the wall, stretched his arms, and grinned 
happily at the beaming faces around him. 

Brushing his admiring crowd aside, in came 
Mr. Patterson, seized the captain's hands in both 
of his and pumped them up and down. 

i75 


PHILIP KENT 


“ Great,” he said. “ Simply great. You out- 
played them, you outgamed them, you fought 
them to a finish.” 

“ The fellows did play splendidly, didn't they, 
Mr. Pat? I am proud of them.” 

From player to player went the coach, congrat- 
ulating all and filling their cup of happiness to 
overflowing with his approval. 

“ Kent,” he said, as he came to where the quar- 
ter-back was contentedly allowing Baconfat and 
The Minute to unlace his muddy boots, “ I really 
did not think you had it in you. You played the 
position like a veteran, and those last plays you 
gave couldn’t have been chosen better by a Steven- 
son himself.” 

“He made good all right, didn’t he?” chirped 
up Bacon. “ He really won the game.” 

Mr. Patterson grinned at this enthusiasm. 
“ Well,” he said, “ he certainly put us in the way 
of winning it.” 

Into the babel of voices came Dr. Wallace to add 
his word of congratulations. 

“ I’m proud of you, boys,” he said, “ but we 
mustn’t waste any time in getting off if we’re to 
be back at Malvern to-night, and I don’t believe 
any of you want to sleep at Windsor, do you? ” he 
added with a twinkle in his eye. 

“ Rather not,” agreed Conway with emphasis. 

176 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“ I’m afraid Windsor would be a little gloomy to- 
night, sir.” 

“ Well then, we have only half an hour, so get 
into your clothes as quickly as possible.” 

By right of seniority, Conway had first chance 
on the lonely tub. “ Jove, that feels good,” he 
said as he sank back into the hot water and pro- 
ceeded to luxuriate in it. 

“ Hurry up there, Cap, the rest of us are wait- 
ing,” said Martin, with his head in the doorway. 

“ Righto ! I'll be out in a jiffy. This mud 
sticks confoundedly, though.” 

The clear water had taken on a chocolate hue. 
“ You must have left half the field in this tub,” 
said Martin as he watched the water run out. 

“ Hurry up there, big man,” urged Potter, next 
in line. 

“ I have to let the water run out, don’t I ? ” re- 
torted the guard. 

“ A fine chance the rest of us have for baths, 
then. We’ve got only twenty minutes.” 

“ Don’t be so finicky.” Doane leaned over the 
shoulders of the others. “Just keep the spigot 
running ; get in it as it is.” 

“ All right,” said Martin cheerfully. “ It’s 
clean dirt.” 

So one after the other, in the rapidly darkening 
water, they scrubbed off the most obvious bits of 
177 


PHILIP KENT 


mud until, as the last man, who happened to be 
Philip, inserted a foot gingerly in the chocolate 
colored mass, the liquid could have been more 
truthfully called mud instead of water. However, 
a victorious football team cannot have its spirits 
dampened by such minor incidents, and joking 
and laughing, rubbed themselves down, got into 
their other clothes, and one by one were hoisted 
into the waiting barge. Their way led them past 
the late scene of conflict. There was much cran- 
ing of necks in the gathering gloom for a last 
glimpse of the scarred field. 

“ Where were you when you made that last pass, 
Lippy ? ” asked Martin. 

“The four yard line, just to the right of the 
posts there, and the captain was standing just 
about where you see that bit of paper.” 

“ Gee, that was a great game.” 

“ It was that,” said Conway with great content- 
ment. “ I don’t yet know how we did it, but we 
did ! ” 

Tired as the team was, every minute of the 
journey home was a delight. Each boy had 
something to relate about the game and tongues 
lagged merrily to appreciative comments from 
those members of the school who, crowding the 
aisles, making use of every available arm seat, had 
forced their way into the car to be near the team 

i;8 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


which had conquered Windsor. Judging others 
by himself, Baconfat had thoughtfully provided 
several bottles of sarsaparilla, and a motley collec- 
tion of cake, with which he endeavored to make 
his friend Philip break training. 

“ IPs not much,” he remarked, “ but it’s the 
best I could do in a hurry.” 

Philip munched the food which had been for- 
bidden him for so many weeks, and munched it 
with great luxuriousness — for his appetite was 
that of any healthy boy, and for seasoning, if 
he needed it, he had the thought of a task well 
done. 

“ Eats ! ” exclaimed Conway, leaning over from 
the rear seat at the sight of the paper bag reposing 
on Bacon’s knee. “ Got any to spare ? ” 

“ Sure,” said Philip ; “ lots of it.” 

“ And as I live, sarsaparilla ! What good fairy 
brought you all this ? ” 

“ Bacon ; he’s a great scout in the eating line.” 

Bacon viewed with some alarm the rapid dis- 
sipation of the store of food among the many 
hungry hands reached out for it. Not that he 
minded the food being eaten — for that was his 
purpose in purchasing it — but for fear that Philip 
would not get his full share. 

“Where in the world did you get all this?” 
said Conway. 


179 


PHILIP KENT 


“ Down in the village,” replied Bacon with 
pardonable pride; “just before the train pulled 
out.” 

“ Hm ! ” commented Conway, with his mouth 
full. “ I tried to find something, but couldn’t lay 
eyes on a crumb. I’ll put you in charge of the 
commissariat after this.” 

“ This certainly does taste good,” said Philip 
with grateful appreciation, under which Bacon 
beamed. “ I was mighty hungry.” 

Bacon tossed the empty bag to the floor. 

“ By Jove,” said Conway, stricken with sudden 
remorse. “ We might have left some for our host. 
We’ve eaten him out of house and home. Didn’t 
you have any ? ” 

“ Not yet,” acknowledged Bacon with a smile 
of conscious superiority, “ but for fear that I might 
be overlooked in the shuffle, I took the precaution 
of extracting two cakes before I offered them to 
you,” and with a very solemn face he uncovered 
his treasure trove from his pocket. The car burst 
into a roar of laughter. 

“ I certainly take off my hat to you, Bacon. 
Safety first ! ” 

With banter and chatter of this kind the journey 
home was miraculously shortened. 

“ Here we are,” said The Minute, peering 
through a window as the train slackened speed. 

180 


IN TtlE LOWER SCHOOL 

li Nonsense, Rod,” objected Philip ; “ we can’t be 
anywhere near home yet.” 

“ All out for Malvern ! ” The conductor put 
his head in the door and shouted the familiar 
warning. 

Philip started with surprise. “You’re right, 
Rod, after all. I should never have believed it.” 

In honor of the victory the station-master had 
done his best — and had done well considering the 
short time at his disposal — to greet the team with 
a proper celebration. He had unearthed from 
somewhere several yards of blue and white bunt- 
ing, which were tacked over the platform, and by 
making use of his spare signal lanterns had secured 
quite a respectable illumination. With a proud 
smile on his face he awaited the pulling in of the 
train. 

“ Great work,” he called, as Conway led the 
mass of boys down the platform. “ We certainly 
were pleased to hear the news.” 

“ When did you get it, Johnny ? ” 

“ Oh, long a ways back. But I tell you what, 
things looked pretty blue around this station 
when word came over the wire that Windsor was 
leading. I reckon you were feeling pretty blue 
yourselves about that time.” 

“ Well, Johnny, we weren’t exactly cheerful,” 
admitted Conway, “ but we never lost confidence, 
181 


PHILIP KENT 


and so w© pulled it out. These are mighty fine 
decorations you have put up for us.” 

The station-master bridled with pleasure at this 
recognition of his handiwork. “ Well,” he said, 
“ as long as you boys did so well up yonder, I 
guess it’s only our duty to encourage you at it. 
In fact,” he said with a grin, in a lower voice, “ if 
I hadn’t been afraid of flagging all the trains I’d 
had my red lanterns up for you, but the superin- 
tendent might have gotten sore. I suppose you’ll 
be having a real celebration up at the school one 
of these days.” 

“ You bet we will,” said Conway with empha- 
sis. “ And don’t you forget to come to it, either. 
I’ll expect you to make a speech.” And Conway 
strode on to the waiting barge, leaving a very 
much flattered station-master behind him. 

Due largely to fatigue but partly to Bacon’s im- 
promptu lunch, Philip and the others found them- 
selves able to do but scant justice to the supper 
that awaited them at the school, and it required 
no urging by the masters to have every light out 
on scheduled time. 

Two days later Philip was called to the sixth 
form room and solemnly presented with his letter 
— the large white M for which he had striven so 
hard. With it went the football cap bearing 
proudly on its crest the small M worked in white 
182 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


upon a leather football. He carried both trophies 
back proudly to his room, the letter in his hand, 
with the cap stuck firmly on the back of his head. 

“ Gee,” said The Minute as Philip appeared. 
“ You do look proud.” 

“ I am,” said Philip shortly. “ Where's my 
sweater ? ” 

“Going to have that sewed on?” asked The 
Minute. 

“ Sure, Mike ! I guess they'll do it for me down 
in the sewing room.” 

The celebration was marked with the usual en- 
thusiasm, and Philip really felt that he belonged 
to the team when he was hoisted up on the hay 
wagon, pulled around the streets of Malvern Vil- 
lage, and finally forced to make a speech in the 
searching blaze of the bonfire. It was much 
pleasanter to be the object of all this praise than 
it was to be but one of the units which composed it. 

For at least a week after the game Philip's health 
was below par. The sudden change from train- 
ing diet to the unlimited supply of ice-cream soda 
and candy which his many admirers took pleasure 
in forcing upon him, was too much for his internal 
arrangements, and once or twice when, after a 
prolonged session at Mr. Mack's he came to the 
supper table to find that plain food had no at- 
tractions for him, he experienced a sense of regret 
183 


PHILIP KENT 


for the appetite he used to possess and which 
made a foaming glass of milk, cold roast beef and 
bread and butter a banquet fit for the gods. But, 
there being no duty to refuse, he found it difficult 
to do so. The orgy terminated in Baconfat’s 
promised party. 

“ To-night’s the night,” said Bacon as they left 
the dining-room. “ I hope you didn’t eat too 
much. Go easy on supper.” 

“ To-night’s the night for what ? ” queried 
Philip, at a loss for a moment to understand the 
other’s meaning, for in the midst of such a boun- 
teous supply of rich food Bacon’s promised cake 
no longer stood out on the horizon with such 
uniqueness. 

“ Why, the party I’m going to give,” answered 
Baconfat, his feelings hurt. “ You haven’t for- 
gotten it, I hope.” 

“ Of course not,” said Philip quickly, “ but I 
thought perhaps you’d given up the idea.” 

“ Not on your life ! I’m going down to Mrs. 
Lord’s this afternoon for the cake.” 

“ How about your other guests ? ” said Philip 
with a grin, very skeptical as to Bacon’s intention 
of really asking the masters. 

“ They have already accepted,” said Bacon 
coolly. “ You didn’t think I was going to back 
out, did you? ” 


184 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“I confess I had suspicions of it. What did 
they say ? ” 

“ Delighted ! Of course I had to ask Mr. Kellar’s 
permission to have the lights up a little longer, 
but he didn’t make any bones about it. Well, 
don’t forget. Nine o’clock prompt.” 

It was a great party. 

“ This,” said Mr. Patterson, holding a glass of 
sarsaparilla to the light — Bacon had seen to it that 
the supply of glassware was sufficient on this oc- 
casion — “ is what I call returning good for evil.” 

“ Well,” said Bacon with an innocent expression 
from where he was busy scrambling eggs, “ I was 
afraid that last time we had not been very hospi- 
table ; that we might have given you the impres- 
sion ” — Bacon paused perceptibly on the words — 
“ that you were not welcome.” 

“ I see,” said Mr. Patterson with equal gravity. 
“ Now that you mention it I confess there was a 
lingering suspicion of the kind in the minds of 
both Mr. Kellar and myself. I am glad,” he went 
on, a twinkle developing in his right eye, “ that 
you have made your position clear, for I shall feel 
now that I can drop in any time at one of your 
little parties without offense, even though you 
may have forgotten to ask me.” 

“ TouchS ! ” acknowledged Bacon, borrowing a 
phrase from the fencing hall, and bowing his 
185 


PHILIP KENT 


acknowledgments. “ But,” he added quickly, 
with a wicked light in his eye, “ after this 
you will know that if you are not invited it 
is because there is no party. I should hate to 
have you walk all this way, on a chance, just for 
nothing.” 

Mr. Patterson in his turn got up from the bed 
and bowed his acknowledgments. 

During this dialogue the others looked on open- 
mouthed at Bacon’s daring, and when, the last 
eatable eaten and the last bottle broached, the 
masters had taken their departure, the other three 
boys threw themselves with delight upon their 
friend. 

“ Great work ! ” said Philip. “ You matched 
Mr. Pat that time.” 

“ A second Machiavelli ! ” said Tait. “ How do 
you do it ? ” 

“ Keep your eye on your uncle,” affirmed 
Bacon. “ Pretty clever ? What ? ” 

“ Why,” said Philip, bursting with laughter, 
“ as long as we are not too outrageous we can have 
all the parties we like. Mr. Kellar won’t bother 
us any more.” 

“ Trust your uncle,” was Bacon’s only response, 
and busied himself with cleaning up the supper 
dishes. 

For a week or two Philip continued to be with 
1 86 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


the older boys. Then, as school life once more 
settled into its usual course, he dropped back 
again to his own form and companionship. The 
experience, however, had aged him. More than 
ever he felt inclined to insist on things being 
done his way, was less patient of criticism, 
and endeavored to lord it over his companions. 
In this he was greatly abetted by the lower forms. 
The young boys seemed to go out of their way to 
do him favors, and where at first he had received 
these evidences of popularity with appreciation 
and gratitude, after a few months he began to 
look upon them as his right and became angry 
when they were not accorded willingly. His 
friends took all this calmly enough ; were perfectly 
willing to yield in most cases out of friendship 
and because, in a way, they did regard him as no 
longer quite of themselves. 

“ Philip’s feeling his oats,” said Tait one day to 
Bacon in the privacy of their room. “ He’s get- 
ting pretty cocky.” 

“ Oh, I don’t know,” demurred the other. 
“He’s pretty sure of himself, if that’s what you 
mean, but I haven’t noticed that he’s disagreeable 
at all.” 

“ Oh, no, I didn’t mean that, but he seems to 
like to have his own way.” 

“ Well,” said Bacon non-committally, “ I dare 
1 87 


PHILIP KENT 


say Fd feel that way if I were on the school team,” 
and the subject dropped. Tait, however, had ac- 
complished his purpose. The thought once 
planted in Bacon’s mind, he naturally became 
more observant, and though he had formerly 
acquiesced good-humoredly, now, for fear that 
Tait would think he was granting too much in 
hero worship, he began to take exception to some 
of Philip’s remarks and ways. 

The rivalry which had existed between Tait 
and Philip from the days of their first form year, 
and which had grown with the passing of time, 
had during the football season naturally fallen 
into abeyance. There could be no rivalry, in one 
sense, between a member of the school team and a 
member of the second. The boys in the form 
who heretofore had yielded allegiance to Jack 
Tait ; who when a dispute arose sided instinctively 
with him, had now joined the throng which did 
homage to Philip. Tait felt this, for in his own 
quiet way leadership meant as much to him as it 
did to the other, and already he had his eyes fixed 
on nothing less than the leadership of the school 
when it came to his turn to be a sixth former at 
Malvern. 

“ Let’s take a long walk this afternoon,” said 
Tait once. 

“ Fine,” said The Minute. Bacon approved of 

188 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


the idea. Then both looked inquiringly at Philip. 
Philip might have been perfectly willing to take 
a walk ; in fact the idea appealed to him as 
much as it did to the others, but not having 
suggested it he threw cold water upon the sug- 
gestion. 

“ Oh, I don't know," he said with a yawn. 
"I’m not feeling so awfully spry. Let's just take 
a stroll and wind up at Mr. Mack's." 

“ Oh, no," said Tait, “ don't do that. Let’s go 
out and get some health." 

“ You forget," said Philip sarcastically, “ that 
while you were all guzzling down there I was in 
training. I've had all the health I want for a 
while. Let's just take a stroll," and he reached 
for his cap. 

“ All right," said The Minute cheerfully ; “ I'd 
just as lieve." 

Tait looked at Bacon sardonically, but Bacon 
failed him. He stretched with a great show of 
yawning. 

“ Second thoughts are best, I guess, Jack. I'm 
not so awfully keen on a long walk." 

From the time Philip had spoken he had coolly 
assumed that the others would fall in with his 
views and had continued his preparation without 
further interest in the discussion. Jack Tait 
looked after them as the three went down the hall 
189 


PHILIP KENT 

— then, with a little shrug of his shoulders, he fol- 
lowed. 

“ There’s no use in sitting by myself even if I 
can’t get my own way,” he said philosophically. 


190 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE POND 

One morning The Minute, snatching a cat nap 
between bells, saw with surprise the door of his 
room open and a small youngster sidle timidly 
through the opening. The Minute started to speak, 
thought better of it, and decided to await develop- 
ments. 11 Why,” he wondered, “ does this kid 
come in here? ” 

He placed him vaguely as a first — or was it a 
second former, by the name of Morris. The boy 
tiptoed across the floor, opened the register quietly 
and closed the window. Then, after a glance at 
both beds — Rodney pretending to be deep in slum- 
ber — proceeded to take the studs out of the shirt 
which Philip had discarded the night before. 

“ What's all this ? ” thought Rodney. “ It looks 
as though Philip has procured a slave.” 

Interested in the proceeding, however, he re- 
mained quiet. The next move of the visitor was 
to open the drawers of Philip's bureau, select a 
clean shirt, stud it, put out some clean socks, a 
collar, and other necessities of correct wear, then 
191 


PHILIP KENT 


with a final look around, picked up Philip’s boots 
and disappeared as quietly as he had come. 

“ I’ll be darned ! ” said The Minute sitting up in 
bed, by this time wide awake, though a precious 
ten minutes of his morning nap at least remained. 
“ Hey, there, Lippy ! ” 

Philip was snoring away, wrapped like a chrys- 
alis in his bedclothes, with nothing but the top of 
his head showing. Rodney, however, refused to 
wait to find out the explanation of the mj^stery, 
and his continued calls finally caused an eruption 
in the bed opposite, and Philip’s very sleepy face 
peered forth. 

“ What’s all the row?” he said thickly, for his 
brain was as yet fogged with sleep. 

“ We’ve just had a visitor. What do you know 
about him? ” 

“ A visitor?” said Philip raising his head, and 
then catching sight of the clean shirt, “ Oh,” he 
said, “ you mean young Morris.” 

Having [vouchsafed this much information, 
Philip’s head again disappeared as he rolled back 
to his former position. 

“ I know it’s young Morris,” said Rodney irri- 
tably. “ What I want to know is what he’s doing 
up here.” 

“ Oh, just getting my things out. Couldn’t you 
see him ? ” 


192 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“ What is he — your slave ? ” 

“No,” said Philip, “I just suggested that it 
was an awful bore studding a clean shirt in 
the morning, and he volunteered to do it for 
me.” 

“ Volunteered ? ” asked Rodney. 

“ Well,” said Philip with a grin, “ you might 
call it conscription, but it sounds better to call it 
volunteering.” 

With the first stroke of the five minute bell — 
that bell which is usually the signal for rising, no 
true Malvernite deigning to budge sooner — Morris 
appeared on the threshold bearing Philip’s freshly 
polished shoes. He nodded to The Minute, crossed 
the room and shook his sleepy master by the 
shoulder. 

“ Time to get up,” he said. Philip, who had 
sunk back into sleep, finally turned over once 
more. 

“ Oh, hello ! ” he said. “ Five minute bell gone, 
has it? Much obliged.” 

With a rapid movement he threw the covers 
from him and sprang to the floor, shoved his feet 
into his slippers and broke for the doorway. Once 
in the wash-room, he turned on the tap, stuck his 
head under, seized a towel, rubbed his head vio- 
lently, and rushed back to his room. 

“ Great help this,” he said as he struggled into 
i93 


PHILIP KENT 

his clothes. “ It just gives me that extra time 
needed.” 

Rodney, who on his side of the room was dress- 
ing as rapidly, though more quietly, seized an op- 
portunity between brush strokes to reopen the 
question. 

“He hasn’t been up here before, has he? I 
haven’t seen him.” 

“ No,” said Philip. “ First morning.” 

“ Well,” said Rodney puzzled, “ he seemed to 
know iust what to do and where to find your 
things.” 

“ Did he ? ” said Philip, pleased. “ That’s good. 
You see,” he added complacently, “ I made him 
go through a complete dress rehearsal yesterday 
afternoon.” 

“ You certainly beat the Dutch ! ” was Rodney’s 
retort with emphasis. “ Aren’t you going it pretty 
strong, as a fourth former, to have a fag ? That’s 
a privilege of the sixth.” 

Philip grinned loftily. “What’s the odds?” 
was his reply. “ I don’t know any rule against it, 
and as long as the kid doesn’t mind I don’t see 
why I shouldn’t.” 

“ I don’t know how the sixth will take it,” sug- 
gested Rodney, and with a final stroke of the 
brush he dashed to the stairs leading to the dining- 
room. 


194 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

This one incident opened The Minute’s eyes to 
the changes that were taking place in his friend. 
He could not forget the fight which Philip had 
waged in his first form year against the demands 
of a sixth former that he black his boots for him. 
At that period in his career Philip had laid much 
stress upon the difference between running er- 
rands for an older boy and doing those things 
which he described as menial — blacking boots 
being one of them. He had not only resisted, 
but had held to his point, and though for a time 
his mutiny had put him in bad odor with certain 
of the sixth form, the net result of his action was 
the gaining of the valued friendship of Momma 
Welsh. 

Now, three years later, he was forcing a new boy 
to do the very things which he had formerly op- 
posed. As The Minute considered all these things 
he shook his head doubtfully. His roommate to 
him had always stood upon a pedestal, and it wor- 
ried him that his sober judgment should now find 
cause to remove him from it or lower it in any 
way. 

However, Morris continued coming to the room, 
and in time — as Morris was a cheerful youngster 
— The Minute grew to look forward with pleasure 
to his morning visit, and though disapproving, 
looked forward to the time when as a sixth former 
i95 


PHILIP KENT 


he could, if he wished, have some one wake him 
in the morning without the slightest danger of 
criticism. 

When the upper school heard of it, as hear they 
did before many weeks had passed, instant con- 
demnation was Philip’s lot. The sixth hauled 
him up on the carpet. 

“ See here, Kent,” said Conway, “ I hear you’ve 
got young Morris calling you every morning. 
Don’t you know that’s a prerogative of the sixth 
form ? ” 

“ No,” said Philip coolly. “ I never heard that. 
Of course, I know we haven’t the power as fourth 
formers the sixth has. We can’t make a boy fag 
for us to that extent, but Morris likes to do it.” 

“ I dare say,” said Conway impatiently ; “ at 
least he tells you he likes to do it, but I hear he 
thinks it a good deal of a bore.” 

“ The little sinner I ” ejaculated Philip. “ He’s 
never given me that impression.” 

“ Well,” said Conway, “ that doesn’t make much 
difference one way or the other. The fourth former 
hasn’t any need for such luxuries. I think you’d 
better dispense with him for the future.” 

Philip grew sullen. “ It seems to me that’s 
pretty high-handed action for the sixth to take,” 
he said. 

“ Oh, nonsense, Lippy. Don’t get so sullen. 

196 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

We’re not taking any action at all. We just 
thought we’d tell you how we thought about it, 
that’s all. And,” he added, “if I were you I’d 
feel about it the same way.” 

There was the suspicion of a threat in Conway’s 
voice which was not lost upon Philip, so, with bad 
grace, he made the best of it. 

“ All right,” he said, “ I don’t want to do any- 
thing that the sixth thinks I shouldn’t, but it 
strikes me you’re making a good deal of fuss 
about nothing. Those kids get up at the first bell 
anyway, and it’s good discipline for them.” 

“It is, is it?” said Conway, turning on him 
like a flash. “ That’s not the way you felt about 
it three years ago.” 

“ Oh,” said Philip with half a laugh, “ I’ve out- 
grown those hifalutin ideas I used to have. I’ve 
got better sense now.” 

Conway with lowering eyes looked after Philip 
as he left the room. “ I am much afraid,” he said, 
“ that that young man is riding to a fall. He 
shows all the symptoms of a swelled head.” 

In a very bad humor Philip stalked down the 
hall. In an evil moment for Morris, the latter 
crossed the fourth former’s path. 

“ Come here,” called Philip. “ I thought you 
liked calling me in the morning,” he said with a 
frown. 


197 


PHILIP KENT 


“ Why — yes,” stammered Morris. “ At least I 
don’t mind.” 

“ Well, they tell me,” said Philip sternly, “ that 
you think it’s a bore.” 

“ Oh, no,” protested the other. 

“ Well,” said Philip, seeing a chance to dismiss 
his fag without having to acknowledge that he 
was forced to do so, “ I got the news pretty straight, 
so if that’s the way you feel about it just stop 
coming. I’m sorry,” he added with a great show 
of injured feelings ; “ there are lots of other boys 
who wanted to do it. I picked you because I 
liked you and wanted to give you the chance, 
but I’m not going to have any one around me 
who finds it a bore to do me a favor,” and Philip 
stalked on down the corridor the picture of mis- 
placed affection. 

Giving up his luxurious habits Philip found to 
be hard enough, accustomed as he had grown to the 
attentions which Morris yielded him, attentions 
which, though small, had from their very intimate 
relation to his every-day life become very neces- 
sary to him, and for several days after their with- 
drawal Philip was late for breakfast. Annoying 
as this was, it was much more annoying to a boy 
of Philip’s tendencies to be forced to acknowledge 
that the sixth form was able to discipline him in 
any way. 


198 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


11 It’s all nonsense/’ he said to The Minute one 
afternoon in an outburst of irritation. “ What 
possible difference can it make to Conway or the 
others whether I do have a fag or not ? It doesn’t 
curtail their privileges in any way.” 

“ I suppose they feel that it makes their privi- 
leges cheap,” suggested The Minute. “ After all, 
they are responsible for the tone of the school.” 

“ Of course they are.” Philip grew impatient. 
“ But it’s not going to lower the tone of the school 
simply because a kid likes me well enough to fix 
my things for me in the morning. Anyway,” he 
went on, as the feeling of his wrongs grew upon 
him, “ the kid really gets as much out of it as I 
do. Don’t you suppose it’s a feather in his cap to 
come in here ? ” 

The Minute looked up quizzically. “ You 
mean, I suppose, that he should be proud to act 
as valet for a member of the school team ? ” 

Philip considered this for a moment. “ Well, 
yes,” he said shortly, “ that’s about it. I am a 
member of the school team, you know.” 

“ Oh, I know,” retorted The Minute laughingly. 
“ You don’t often let me forget it.” 

Philip swung around in his tracks. “ What do 
you mean by that?” he growled. 

The Minute bore his glance resolutely. He was 
pale, but a smile played over his lips. “ Oh, noth- 
199 


PHILIP KENT 


ing, Phil, except what I said. I don’t want to 
pick a fight with you, but really, in the long run, 
I think you would get more credit given freely if 
you allowed us to forget for a while that you are 
on the school team.” 

Philip flushed. “ That’s a pretty nasty thing 
to say, it seems to me,” he remarked with a trace 
of bitterness. 

“Oh, don’t get sore, Lippy, old boy. Pm just 
telling you these things for your own good. You 
know I’d stand by you to the end in any sort of a 
pinch.” Rodney got up and crossed the room to 
where Philip had slunk into the chair. “ Really,” 
he said, “ you are getting a bit of a swelled head, 
aren’t you ? ” 

Philip shook off the hand which Rodney had 
placed affectionately on his shoulder. “ If that’s 
the way you feel about it,” he said roughly, “ I 
don’t know that I want you to stand by me in a 
pinch.” 

Rodney stood gazing down at his friend and 
shook his hand. “ Don’t get mad. I’m only 
afraid you’ll get in bad with the sixth, and that 
wouldn’t be any joke,” he warned. 

“ Huh ! ” said Philip. “ What do I care about 
the sixth ? ” 

This conversation, although it caused no real 
breach between the friends, thanks chiefly to Rod- 
200 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

ney’s refusal to let it do so, caused the latter to 
abate a little of his allegiance to his roommate. 
This feeling had already spread to the adjoining 
room, where Tait was actively antagonistic, and 
thanks to his influence, Bacon also no longer 
yielded the unswerving agreement with which he 
had formerly met Philip’s wishes. The quartette 
still played together ; were a unit in their mis- 
chievous hours, and were considered by the school 
as inseparable. This impression no one of the 
four was as yet anxious to weaken, for even Tait 
realized that the four of them presenting a solid 
front to the multiple interests which daily warred 
against theirs, could accomplish much more for 
the good of the individual than if rumors of the 
breaking up of the alliance had spread to the 
lower forms. Philip was still the leader, but Tait 
was biding his time, and in the interim by a care- 
ful regard for the rights of the youngsters and 
with the aid of a full purse, was gradually build- 
ing up a following which, though ostensibly yield- 
ing the rights of leadership to Kent, would, he 
thought, whenever an actual break occurred, sup- 
port him. 

It was an open winter. Though Thanksgiving 
had passed by a full ten days, the first snow-storm 
had still to occur. To make up for this lack, how- 
ever, the north had descended upon Malvern with 
201 


PHILIP KENT 


unusual rigor, and for two weeks or more a black 
frost had thickened the ice on every pond and 
strangled many a stream with its crystal covering. 
As a result of this, Mr. Mack did a flourishing busi- 
ness in hot chocolate, for every boy who owned or 
could borrow a pair of skates spent his afternoons 
on Parker Pond, and as his homeward way led by 
the store, few there were who could resist the lure 
of the bright lights and warm drink after a two- 
mile tramp. The quartette of North Corridor, 
No. 3, were no exceptions to the rule. They were 
not expert skaters. In fact, their motions com- 
pared to the real rhythm of skating as the motions 
of a boy swimming dog fashion do to the finished 
exponent of the Australian crawl. They often 
fell. Their progress was slow, but, as Bacon said 
more than once in answer to ribald remarks ut- 
tered by more proficient skaters, “ We get there all 
the same.” 

“ After all,” said Tait commiseratingly, as he 
picked Bacon up for the tenth time one afternoon 
from where he lay sprawling upon the ice, to 
which position he had been reduced by a vicious 
charge of his opponents — he had been keeping 
goal in an impromptu hockey match — “ after all, 
I wouldn’t bother about standing up. You seem 
to occupy almost as much space one way as the 
other.” 


202 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


In response to this slander, Bacon aimed a vi- 
cious blow at Tait with his stick. Tait slid rap- 
idly out of reach and avoided the blow easily. 
Bacon had let his resentment outweight his dis- 
cretion ; the force of the blow overcame his re- 
cently established equilibrium, and he again sat 
heavily. 

“ Darn you,” he said. “ Come and help me up 
again.” 

“ I will not,” declared Tait, in roars of laughter. 
“ You’re a nice fellow to try and beat up your 
rescuer.” 

“ You’d better,” called Bacon in a panic ; “ here 
they come again.” 

Tait glanced around, saw the puck rapidly ap- 
proaching goal, and so helped up his goal keeper. 
Between them they managed to escape a score, 
though in the melee Bacon’s feet again proved 
treacherous. 

Off in another corner of the pond the school 
five was practicing for its next match. Before long 
interest in its doings, together with utter exhaus- 
tion on the part of the players, called a halt to the 
game in which Bacon and Tait were engaged. 

“ Hello, Lippy,” called Tait as they skated up 
to the other rink. “ Not playing? ” 

“Just finished,” was the answer. “There were 
so many boys out for the second team that each 
203 


PHILIP KENT 

team can play for only a short while. I'm all 
through.” 

They watched the play for some time, and then 
as the cold air began to strike through their 
sweaters, Tait got restless. 

“ Let's go for a long skate,” he suggested. “ It's 
early yet.” 

“ Good ! ” said Rodney. 

“ Let’s see how far we can skate up the stream. 
We’ve never tried that.” 

The pond, which was about half a mile long, 
was fed by a stream which stretched, turning and 
twisting upon itself, through the adjacent meadows. 

“ I’m on,” agreed Philip after a moment’s hesi- 
tation, “ but I don’t believe we’ll get far up the 
stream. That’s never been frozen since I’ve been 
here.” 

“ We can try it, anyway,” said Bacon. 

“ It’ll be frozen, all right,” asserted Tait. 
“ There hasn’t been a continuous frost like this 
since any of us came to school. We ought to be 
able to skate a mile or two.” 

At this estimate, which exceeded by much any 
idea of distance which Bacon had entertained 
when he so readily agreed to Tait’s suggestion, he 
groaned. 

“ Hm,” he said doubtfully, “ I don’t know that 
I want to go that far.” 


204 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“ Oh, don't be a spoil-sport," urged Tait. 
“ Come along." 

“ That's the talk." 

“ Don’t worry," said Philip consolingly. “ We’ll 
be lucky if we get up a quarter of a mile." 


205 


CHAPTER XIV 


BROKEN ICE 

The ice was in perfect condition, clear and 
black. They left the shouting, excited mass of 
skaters behind them, and two and two struck 
across the pond. As the water shallowed at the 
far end, bits of waterweed could be clearly seen 
through the transparent ice, and once The Minute 
stopped the progress of the four by declaring that 
he had seen a large fish swim swiftly beneath him. 
At this end there were few skaters. Here and 
there a boy could be seen in a secluded corner 
practicing the various figures of fancy skating. 
As they neared the stream Tait called to several 
who were just emerging from its mouth : 

“ How’s the ice up there? ” 

“ Fine,” was the answer. 

“ Frozen all the way up ? ” 

“ Don’t know,” came floating back as the 
speaker in long, graceful strokes diminished the 
distance between himself and home. “ Only went 
a little way.” 

Wide at its mouth, the stream rapidly narrowed 

206 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


to a few feet in width, and in places where the 
character of the soil had resisted the encroach- 
ment of the water, the available surface was so 
small that frequently the skaters were forced to 
swing the disengaged leg over the adjoining bank. 
For some distance the marks of other skaters were 
thickly massed and the surface suffered in conse- 
quence, but after a few hundred yards the skaters 
dwindled from half a dozen to three, to one, to 
none, and the four friends shot on over smooth 
virgin ice. 

“ Great, isn't it ? ” exclaimed Tait with enthu- 
siasm, as he went around a sharp bend on the out- 
side edge. There was an appreciative grunt from 
Bacon, but that was all — he was saving his breath 
in anticipation of the long trip homeward. Under 
the spell of the clear sky, the crisp wind in his 
face, the musical strokes of his skates, Philip for 
the first time in many weeks felt at peace with the 
world and somewhat regretful of the coldness 
which he felt had insensibly grown up between 
him and his friends. It was good to be alive this 
clear winter's afternoon. His enthusiasm for the 
sport grew with every yard. The difficulty of 
negotiating the narrow places ; the joy of the long 
swinging strokes he was enabled to take where 
the stream widened, made him loath to enter- 
tain any idea of returning so long as the white 
207 


PHILIP KENT 

ribbon stretched in its perplexing curves ahead of 
him. 

“ Not frozen, eh ? ” called Tait once with a 
glance of triumph over his shoulder. Ordinarily 
Philip would have answered back sharply, but 
in his present mood a pleasant “ Right you were ; 
I take it all back,” was the extent of his hail in 
reply. 

Nevertheless he felt irritated. Why, just when 
he was trying to wipe out the old unpleasantness 
and was feeling so happy, should Tait try to goad 
him back into his former attitude ? For some time 
they skated on in silence. Then, after a glance 
at the sun and its position verified by his watch, 
Tait called a halt. 

“ It's getting late, fellows,” he said. “ How 
about turning around ? ” 

Bacon and The Minute raised no protest, but 
Philip broke in eagerly. 

“ Oh, no,” he said. “ Let’s go on further yet. 
Let’s go on as far as we can,” and he struck out for 
a stroke or two. 

“ Oh, no, Philip. We’ll be late for study hour,” 
said Bacon. “ I’m getting tired, anyway, and I 
don’t want to have to hurry on the way back.” 

“ The ice is getting thin up here, anyway,” 
added Tait, stamping with the heel of one of his 
blades. 


208 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“The first thing we know we shall all go 
through.” 

“ ’Fraid-cat ! ” said Philip. “ Why, this ice is as 
solid as it was half a mile back,” and he stamped 
in his turn. The ice bent perceptibly under the 
blow, and a warning crack ran up and down the 
stream. 

“ See,” said Tait in triumph. 

“ Oh, that’s all right,” declared Philip, minimiz- 
ing the effects of his experiment. “ I stamped on 
that hard. It’ll hold anybody skating over it for 
a long distance yet. Come on.” 

Anxious to avert an open breach, The Minute 
threw his persuasive powers on Philip’s side. 
“ Let’s split the difference,” he said. “ Let’s skate 
another fifteen minutes and then turn back. That 
will give us lots of time, if we hurry a bit, to make 
the schoolroom before study hour.” 

The others grudgingly agreed, though Bacon as 
he followed in the rear of the other three could 
have been heard to murmur plaintively: “That 
means that we won’t have time to stop at Mr. 
Mack’s.” 

At this point the stream ran through a marsh. 
In places the dead reeds arched across the thorough- 
fare, while in others the banks receded and the 
stream took on the character of a small pond. 
More than once as they skated ahead, Tait looked 
209 


PHILIP KENT 


meaningly at his companions as the ice cracked 
and bent under their feet. Less observant, the 
conditions apparently caused no answering qualms 
in the minds of Bacon and The Minute. Whether 
or not Philip noticed the conditions, Tait could 
not tell ; at least he gave no sign that he appre- 
ciated it, and Tait, warned once by the call of 
“ ’Fraid-cat,” was determined to skate on until 
Philip himself was forced to call a halt. 

Philip had noticed it. For some time he had 
been gravely in doubt as to the wisdom of con- 
tinuing. In his case, as well, it was only pride 
which kept him from acknowledging the growing 
danger. 

With hands locked behind him, head bent, he 
swung over the ice in measured strokes. Tait 
was the first to weaken. 

“ Really, this isn’t safe,” he said, and stopped. 
Philip, a few yards in advance, heard the call and 
swung around. He agreed thoroughly with Tait ; 
in fact, an identical remark had been on his own 
lips. Now, however, that Tait had made the move 
he scorned the idea. 

“ What’s the matter ? ” he said, pretending to 
have misunderstood the reason for the halt. “ The 
fifteen minutes aren’t up yet, are they ? ” 

“ No,” said The Minute, consulting his watch, 
“ but Jack thinks the ice is getting risky.” 

210 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“ Oh, don’t mind Jack,” sneered Philip ; “ he’s 
getting to be an old woman. You agreed to skate 
for fifteen minutes. Come on.” Without waiting 
for a reply, he turned in his tracks and skated 
swiftly on. 

His companions, uncertain what to do, watched 
him dodge a hummock in the ice, skate across a 
stretch of clear ice, push aside the reeds which 
impeded his progress, and disappear behind their 
concealing curtain. 

“ Well,” began Tait, impatiently stamping his 
foot, “ what are we going to do ? ” 

An ominous crack answered his remark. The 
ice starred in all directions from the trio. In- 
stinctively they scattered. Hardly had the rever- 
beration died away than a more distant, but much 
louder crack caused them to look inquiringly at 
each other. The crack was followed by a crash 
of splintered ice, and a splash. 

“ He’s gone through ! ” cried The Minute, hor- 
rified. 

Philip, his cooler judgment thrown to the 
winds by his pig-headed determination to out- 
game his rival, had skated blindly on. With 
every stroke he could feel the ice give under his 
feet, and long, white cracks spread always before 
him as he advanced. Once through the reeds, he 
found the stream opening out into a small pond. 

21 1 


PHILIP KENT 


As it happened, this greater expanse of surface 
was due to the presence of numerous springs, 
which, joining together, had overcome the normal 
banks of the creek. The springs not only wi- 
dened the stream ; they spelt danger for the 
skater. So much temperate water being added at 
one place to the normal body, appreciably raised 
the temperature. 

At this one point the ice, dangerously thin be- 
fore, had been reduced to a mere skin. Philip, 
breaking through the reeds at full speed, had no 
chance to stop if he had been so inclined. For 
one moment the ice swayed and buckled beneath 
him ; then, thirty feet out from the bank, it gave 
way and the boy plunged into the water over his 
head. 

In an instant he came to the surface and made 
a frantic grab at the nearest solid ice. Too thin, 
it broke treacherously under his hand. The effort 
to reach it, its failure to support him, sent him 
once more under the surface, and he came up 
sputtering, with a long green weed festooned over 
his ear. His skates weighed him down. He 
found it increasingly difficult to keep afloat. The 
water soaked through his sweater and added to 
the burden he was forced to support. At his sec- 
ond effort the ice again broke under his hand. 

At the sound of the crash, almost simultane- 
212 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


ously with his exclamation, Rodney had started 
to the rescue. With a keener appreciation of con- 
ditions, Tait yelled at him : 

“ Stop, Rodney. Come back.” Rodney hesi- 
tated. “ You’ll be in yourself in a minute, you 
idiot. The hole must be just on the other side 
of those reeds. Get up on the bank,” and he im- 
mediately started to scramble over the hummocky 
ground through the enshrouding reeds. Guided 
by the wiser impulse, Rodney and Bacon followed 
suit, and stumbling and falling, they hurried to 
the rescue. No sound reached them from Philip ; 
no appeal for help. Except for splashing water, 
all was silent. The trio broke through the reeds 
at last to emerge near him on the shore of the 
little pond. 

Philip, his face mud-streaked, eyes set, but be- 
ginning to show signs of panic, was endeavoring 
to break through the thin ice to reach the portion 
which might bear him. The cold water and the 
hard work were rapidly telling on him. The 
blows he dealt the ice had less strength back of 
them and came more slowly. He tried to smile 
as his friends appeared, but his eyes carried an 
appeal for help. 

“ Nice fix,” he grunted, pausing for a moment 
to test the strength of the ice under his 
hands. His body fully submerged, it held him, 

213 


PHILIP KENT 

but it was obviously too weak to support his 
weight. 

Tait surveyed the scene quickly. The pond 
was hedged in on all sides* by a close growth of 
weeds six feet in height. Not a tree or bush was 
in sight. 

“ See if you can find a stick, or anything/' he 
shouted to the others. Meanwhile he sat down 
and took off his skates. A hurried survey and 
Bacon reported there was nothing that could be 
used to reach Philip. 

“ Can you touch out there?" called Tait. 
Philip shook his head weakly. “ Can you break 
your way in any further ? ” 

“ I’ll try," said Philip. Once more he began 
his hammering process, but now, weakened as he 
was and the ice being somewhat thicker, it yielded 
to his blow only after much effort. In despera- 
tion, he heaved his shoulders and upper part of 
his body upon the jagged edge. Under this added 
weight it gave instantly, and the effort again put 
Philip's head under water. As he came up, he 
looked despairingly at the twenty feet which yet 
separated him from safety. Tait made up his 
mind rapidly. 

“ Here," he said, as he stripped himself of his 
belt. “ Take off yours, boys. Knot the three of 
them together and stand by." His shoes, which 
214 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


had been attached to his skates, were already off, 
and stripping himself of his heavy sweater in 
stocking feet he advanced cautiously across the 
pond in Philip’s direction. 

“ What are you going to do?” called Bacon 
anxiously. 

“ Find where the solid ice is and then break a 
way out to Philip,” he called back. 

It was on the point of Bacon’s tongue to remon- 
strate, and then realizing that time was growing 
short and that he had no better plan to offer, he 
held his peace. As Tait advanced the ice cracked 
slightly. Another step, the warning was repeated 
more loudly. Then, to the watchers’ amazement, 
he deliberately jumped into the air and came 
down stiff-legged upon the ice. 

It held. He waved a hand triumphantly in 
Bacon’s direction and proceeded another step or 
two before repeating the manceuver. This time 
the ice broke. 

Prepared for it, Tait held himself above water 
as his footing gave way, and then attacked the ice 
which spread between him and Philip. For a few 
feet it was with difficulty that he succeeded in 
gaining ground ; in fact, only by throwing him- 
self half upon the ice did he manage to break a 
passage. Then the rotten ice gave way more easily, 
and slowly but surely he approached his goal. 

215 


PHILIP KENT 


“ Can you hold out ? ” he called at length as he 
rested both elbows upon the ice. Philip nodded 
gamely. 

“ All right then,” said Tait, “ but look out as I 
get close to you. Back away from that place 
you’re holding on to when I get ready to break it. 
Now ! ” he said. Gathering all his reserve strength, 
Philip reluctantly let go of his one anchorage and 
swam a stroke backward. Instantaneously Tait 
threw himself upon the last remaining piece ; with 
a splash it gave way, and he was through. 

“ Put your hand on my shoulder now, Lippy, 
old boy,” he said cheerfully, “ and I’ll have you 
out in a minute.” 

Meekly Philip obeyed, and the return passage 
began. The surface of the pond was dotted with 
floating ice which marked the channel which Tait 
had broken. It was no easy matter to make prog- 
ress. Swimming with a breast stroke, Tait una- 
voidably pushed ahead of him the floating pieces, 
which as they crowded together eventually caused 
serious impediment to further advance. Every 
stroke was an effort. Philip, one hand tightly 
clenched in Tait’s shirt, could do nothing to aid 
his rescuer. He was forced to float limply and let 
the other do the actual work. Any effort on his 
part would have done more to hinder than to 
help. On the bank Bacon and The Minute stood 
216 



<{ CAN YOU HOLD OUT ?” HE CALLED 












. 


. 


































» 







IN THE LOITER SCHOOL 


watching the struggle breathlessly and waiting 
until the couple were sufficiently near before ven- 
turing out on the more solid ice. 

“Can we reach them yet?” said The Minute 
every moment, his voice hoarse with anxiety. 
Bacon shook his head. The belts knotted together 
hung from his hand ; at best they constituted a 
frail help, not six feet long. It could be of little 
use until Tait had come to the solid ice. The last 
few feet of progress became exceedingly difficult. 
Tait could no longer swim, and whatever headway 
was made was secured by his beating away the 
floating ice, every motion of his arm, however, 
sending himself and Philip perilously near to 
going under. Tait, thanks to having slipped off 
his outer clothing, was in the best possible shape 
to accomplish what he had set out to do, but 
Philip’s heavy sweater moment by moment became 
more saturated, and a consequent drag upon his 
rescuer. 

Once he tried to rest himself by clinging to 
the edge of the passageway, but the rotten ice 
gave way and both he and Philip disappeared 
— to come up a moment later sputtering and ex- 
hausted. 

Bacon waited no longer. Throwing himself on 
his stomach he wormed his way out across the ice, 
with The Minute close at his heels. Reaching the 
217 


PHILIP KENT 


edge he wound one end of the belt tightly around 
his hand and whipped the other out across the 
floating ice. It fell out of Tait’s reach. 

“ One more effort, Jack,” Bacon called, his voice 
strained with the excitement of the occasion. 
“ One more stroke, and you can reach it.” 

Tait, his eyes filled with water from his recent 
plunge, groped blindly for the belt, then hearing 
Bacon shout he plunged forward with all his 
strength. Again Bacon threw. The end of the 
belt landed across Tait’s shoulder. He grasped 
for it ; missed it, and then, with another frantic 
grab, seized it successfully in both hands. Bacon 
and The Minute cautiously began to draw him in. 

” Hold tight ! ” said Tait tensely over his 
shoulder, as the strain came on the belts. 

“ All right,” answered Philip, taking a firmer 
hold of his rescuer’s shirt. Another moment and 
both boys were hauled through the mush safely to 
the solid ice, and assisted by the others lost no time 
in getting solid ground under their feet. Both fell 
exhausted on the reeds ; Tait panting and breath- 
less from his exertions ; Philip numb with cold. 
Bacon regarded them anxiously. 

“ You mustn’t stay there,” he said. “ You’ll 
both freeze to death. Do you think you can get 
home ? ” 

“ Not yet, for a minute,” said Tait. “ I’m done.” 

218 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“ 111 try,” said Philip, and tried to get up, but 
his muscles refused to support him ; he stumbled, 
and almost fell. 

Bacon looked despairingly at The Minute. 

“ What are we going to do, Rod? ” he said. 

The Minute for his part had also been consider- 
ing the situation. Four miles from home ; two 
drenched and half frozen boys on their hands ; 
dusk rapidly approaching — it was a very nasty 
situation. 

“ The first thing, I think,” he said, “is to have 
a fire,” and suiting the action to the words he began 
breaking off and tearing up the nearest reeds. 
Catching the idea, Bacon joined him, and in a few 
moments they had a respectable pile of fuel. 
Bacon, however, looked at it doubtfully. 

“ It will blaze, all right,” he said, “ but it won’t 
last.” 

“ It will if we keep on gathering them,” retorted 
The Minute. “ We must make it do.” 

Without further words The Minute touched a 
match to the pile, saw that the reeds were well 
alight, and then turned to the work of collecting 
more. With their best efforts, however, their fire 
was but a fitful one. Each consignment of reeds 
blazed up, gave a fierce warmth for a moment, and 
then died down to a rapidly cooling bed of coals. 
In spite of all they could do, their companions 
219 


PHILIP KENT 

shivered and shook with cold. It was now quite 
dark. 

The Minute threw a quick, despairing glance 
around the marsh looking for help. None was in 
sight. 

“ There must be a farmhouse around here some- 
where, n he said desperately. “ Do you know ? ” 

“ No,” said Bacon. “ I’ve lost my bearings en- 
tirely.” 

“ Well,” said The Minute, “ I’m going to find 
one and get help. Jack, Philip, if you don't want 
to get pneumonia you must get up and start walk- 
ing right off.” 

“ I’ll try,” said Tait, “ but I won’t get far. I 
haven’t any shoes, and I can’t walk in my stock- 
ings.” 

“ You’ve got to try,” said Rodney decisively. 
“ See that hill over there ? ” They stared through 
the gathering gloom. “ Make for that,” he said. 
“ That’s the direction I’m going for help. Un- 
derstand ? ” 

Waiting to see that the three were on their feet 
and headed in the right direction, he started across 
the marsh. It was difficult walking. As far as 
possible he sprang from tuft to tuft of marsh grass, 
but the footing was slippery. Often he missed his 
aim and would land sprawling on skin ice and 
frozen mud. At times the reeds became so thick 


220 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


that he lost his sense of direction and was forced 
more than once to retrace his steps. At last, and 
none too soon for his waning strength, he sprang 
on to solid land. The hill he had chosen for his 
landmark rose steeply above him. Marking his 
point of egress from the marsh by two trees, he 
skirted the hill at his best speed. Luck was with 
him. A hundred yards brought him in sight of 
the cheerful lights of some building, and a mo- 
ment later, amid the clamor raised by the aroused 
dogs, he was knocking on the door. Sounds of 
slow movement came from within, and then he 
was looking up into the amazed face of the farm- 
er's wife. 

“ Land sakes ! ” she said, as she gazed down 
upon The Minute's breathless countenance. 
“ What's happened ? You’re all out of breath.’ 1 

“ Please,” said The Minute panting, “ is there 
any one here who can give us help? A couple 
of the boys from the school fell into the 
pond below here and they’re nearly frozen to 
death.” 

“ Did you ever hear the like ! ” ejaculated the 
woman, but with sound common sense wasted no 
time in exclaiming over the event. 

“ Father,” she called, and led the way to the 
kitchen. 

“What's the trouble? ” said a deep voice, and 
221 


PHILIP KENT 


Rodney, blinking from the light of a cozy 
kitchen, saw a broad-shouldered man sitting at 
supper. 

“ Two boys have fallen through the ice,” said 
his wife. “ Get your coat on now, and hurry ; 
they need your help.” 

“ Well,” drawled the man without moving, 
“ let’s hear something more about it first.” 

But his wife interrupted. “ Don’t sit there 
jabbering, Silas,” said she, “ while there’s two poor 
humans freezing to death outside. I’ll warrant 
this young man can tell you all about it as you go 
along.” 

With quick movements she seized his coat from 
the peg, hurried him into it, wound a comforter 
around his neck, and then fairly fidgeted with im- 
patience while her good man pulled his cap over 
his ears and leisurely thrust his hands into a 
formidable pair of mittens. 

“ No use of my freezing to death,” he said. 

For all his slowness in starting, Rodney could 
find no fault with him once outside the farmhouse 
door. Rapidly he recounted the events of the af- 
ternoon. 

“ You don’t say,” was his companion’s response. 
“ They sure had a narrow escape, and I’ll warrant 
they are cold now. The weather’s pretty keen.” 

Around the curve of the hill they went at a 
222 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


good pace, Rodney on the watch for the trees he 
had marked down. 

“ Ah,” he said with relief after several false 
alarms, “ here we are. This is where I came out of 
the marsh.” But there was no sign of his friends. 
“ They can’t be far off,” said Rodney desperately, 
and sent a shrill cry across the desolate place. 
There was no response. Then the farmer, cupping 
his mouth through his hands, inflated his big 
chest to the utmost and sent forth a stentorian 
bellow. 

“ That ought to reach them,” he said compla- 
cently, “ if they’re above ground.” 

“ I heard something,” said Rodney, as the echo 
died away. “ Right out there ahead of us.” 

“ Perhaps you’re right,” said Silas doubtfully. 
11 We’ll go a piece out and call again.” 

After the next lusty shout there was no mistake 
— both heard an answering hail. 

\\ "There they are,” and by turns shouting and 
walking they grew rapidly closer to the boys they 
sought. Except for the light accorded by the 
stars, which crackled in the clear sky, it was very 
dark, and not until they came within a few feet 
did the figures stand out from the surrounding 
blackness. Bacon, with an arm of each of the 
others over his shoulders, was standing ankle deep 
in the sedge, with an expression of bulldog deter- 
223 


PHILIP KENT 


mination on his face, but it was clear he could 
have gone no further. 

“ Thank goodness,” he said, as the tall form of 
the farmer loomed up, and he sat down heavily. 

“ Well, well/’ said Silas. “ This is a pretty 
kettle of fish, but we’ll have you out of this and 
between some warm blankets in a jiffy. You help 
your friend along,” he said to Rodney ; “ I can 
manage these two,” and putting a huge arm 
around the waist of each he fought his way back 
without more ado to the marsh’s edge. 

Nearly done up himself, Rodney was put to it 
to keep pace with him and help Bacon at the same 
time. The latter, relieved of the dead weight of 
his companions and more particularly the respon- 
sibility that had been his, rapidly regained some 
semblance of strength, and before they had pro- 
ceeded far was able to walk unassisted. Mrs. 
Warnock meanwhile had lost no time. Out came 
the blankets tumbling from the clothes press, to 
be spread over chairs in front of the kitchen fire ; 
then into her best spare room, with no trace of 
New England thrift, she sped to prepare the old 
four poster for the guests. At the first sound of 
her husband’s feet on the stone steps she was at 
the front door, peering anxiously through the 
gloom to see what manner of treasure trove this 
adventure had brought her. 

224 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


11 You poor children,” she said, as she caught a 
glimpse of the dirt-streaked and woebegone faces 
of the two figures her husband was supporting. 
“ Bring them right in here, Silas. Make them 
strip while I go up and finish getting the bed 
ready.” 

It was slow work. Their clothes, soggy with 
water, came off only after much coaxing, and the 
stiffened fingers of Tait and Philip were of little 
use in helping. 

“ Rub them down well now,” floated Mrs. 
Warnock’s voice from the second floor, “ and then 
wrap them each in a hot blanket.” 

Bacon and The Minute fell to with a will and 
pounded and pummeled, pinched and slapped the 
two victims until they howled with pain. 

“ We must get you warm,” said Bacon ; “ stop 
your squealing. I have no intention of stopping 
until I get you pink all over.” 

Helped out with some rough towels which, as 
Philip said afterward, nearly scraped the skin off 
his back, the blood began once more to circulate. 

“ That’ll do, I think,” said Bacon, standing off 
for a full survey of Tait’s figure. “ Now, wrap 
yourself up in this.” 

“ I declare,” said Mrs. Warnock a minute later, 
“ you both look better already,” and she gazed 
with satisfaction to where, wrapped in her best 
225 


PHILIP KENT 


blankets, they sat toasting themselves in front of 
the kitchen fire. A moment later she was back 
again with a large glass of some liquid. 

“ Drink this down,” she said, after filling the 
tumbler to the brim from the kettle, “ and then 
I’ll tuck you both up in bed. A little jamaica 
ginger never hurt anybody, and it may just keep 
you from catching cold.” 


226 


CHAPTER XV 


A LITTLE PRESENT 

“ We’d better be getting back to school/’ said 
The Minute half an hour later, as he drained the 
last drops from the glass of the same cold pre- 
ventive which Mrs. Warnock had insisted on his 
taking. “ The Gorgon will have the whole 
countryside out looking for us.” 

“ Oh, I think you’d better stay here for the 
night,” protested their hostess. “ I can make you 
just as comfortable as you’d want on the sofa.” 

Bacon shook his head. “ I think we’d better be 
getting along,” he said. “ You’ve been mighty 
good to us, but they’ll be worried.” 

She looked at both boys and then nodded her 
head approvingly. “ You’re good boys,” she said, 
“ to think about their worrying, and I guess you’re 
right, but I’m not going to let you walk all that 
way. Silas can just as well as not hitch up a team 
and drive you. You’re dead beat, the both of you.” 

“ Oh, no,” they both protested with one voice, 
but Mrs. Warnock was not to be gainsaid. 

“ Don’t try to cross me now,” she said I’ve 
made up my mind.” 


227 


PHILIP KENT 


Silas, without more ado, as though realizing the 
futility of arguing, arose from his chair once 
more, picked up the lantern, and strode out. 

"Now,” she said, “just you sit here and make 
yourself comfortable and Silas will be ready for 
you in no time.” 

The three crowded into the buggy, and with 
many a “ Whoa, lass ! ” from Silas to the impatient 
mare, the two boys were well wrapped up in a 
horse blanket by the watchful Mrs. Warnock. 

“ You’ll tell the Doctor,” she said, “ not to worry. 
I’ve got these two boys safe and sound in bed and 
I’ll keep them till the morning. There’s no use 
sending after them to-night.” 

It was a cold drive, but excitement kept Bacon 
and The Minute warm. The road skirted a pas- 
ture, bumped down an uneven lane, and thence 
out to the highroad. A mile beyond they passed 
the dam, and Bacon threw anxious glances across 
the ice to see if rescuers had already started forth. 

“ What time is it ? ” he asked. 

“All of eight o’clock, I reckon,” said Silas, chirp- 
ing to his willing mare, who was already speed- 
ing along at a fast gait. 

“ You’d better keep a lookout for them, Bacon ; 
some one’s sure to be out looking for us by this 
time.” 

Around the next curve the lights of an automo- 
228 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

bile showed ahead. Silas slowed down and drew 
to the side of the road. 

“ Mayhap these are your people/’ he said. The 
car in turn slackened its speed, and as it drew op- 
posite a voice called, “ Who’s that? Have you 
seen any boys around ? ” 

“ It’s Mr. Pat,” gurgled Bacon with relief, and 
then : “ Is that you, Mr. Patterson ? ” he called. 
The brakes of the automobile went on in a flash, 
and the master leaped into the road. 

“ Bacon ! ” exclaimed Mr. Patterson in relief. 
“ Where on earth have you been ? We’ve been 
worried to death. What do you mean by staying 
out so late ? ” 

“ Philip Kent fell in,” said Bacon. “ We 
couldn’t help it.” 

“ Philip fell in ! ” said Mr. Patterson. 

“ Yes,” and Bacon and The Minute both began 
talking at once. “ Miles up the creek ; Jack Tait 
went in and pulled him out ; had an awful time ; 
knotted our belts together ; nearly froze.” 

“ Hold on a minute,” broke in Mr. Patterson 
with impatience. “ I can’t understand a word 
you’re saying,” and then as he peered into the 
buggy, his voice rose : 

“ Where is Kent, and where is Tait ? ” His 
voice broke in alarm. 

“ Tucked up safe in bed,” broke in the deep 
229 


PHILIP KENT 


voice of Silas Warnock. “ They're all right, Mr. 
Patterson ; don’t you worry. They’re sound 
asleep, I reckon, by this time, with the wife look- 
ing after them, and a good dose of jamaica ginger 
inside of each of them. Whoa there, old girl, 
dern you ! ” he broke off, as the mare began to 
sidle and prance. 

“Who is that?” said Mr. Patterson. “ I can’t 
make you out.” 

“ Silas Warnock from the Hill Farm.” 

“ Oh, I know you now. You say the other two 
are all right ? ” 

“ Yes, don’t you worry. If I were you I’d pile 
these youngsters into that car of yours and get 
them to bed. They didn’t fall in, but they’re 
near wore out.” 

“ Hm,” said the master doubtfully. “ I was 
thinking I ought to go down and take a look at 
the others, but I think you’re right. I confess I 
haven’t got to the bottom of this yet, but that can 
wait.” 

The two youngsters, with profuse thanks to the 
farmer, were quickly transferred to the automo- 
bile, horse blanket and all, and Mr. Patterson lost 
no time in heading for home. 

Dr. Wallace awaited them in the hall. For an 
hour past, ever since the boys’ absence had been 
discovered, he had been pacing anxiously up and 
230 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


down awaiting word from the lieutenants whom 
he had sent in every direction. 

“Have you found them?” he called, stepping 
out into the cloisters. 

“ Safe and sound all,” was Mr. Patterson’s 
cheery response, and bundled his charges indoors. 
“ The other two,” he added quickly in answer to 
the Doctor’s look, “ are, I understand, sound asleep 
in Silas Warnock’s best bedroom, and I think this 
pair had better go right to the hospital. I have 
the main facts ; we can get the rest to-morrow.” 

“ Well,” said the Doctor, as the matron, hastily 
summoned, led the boys away, “ tell me all about 
it. What has happened ? Fell through the ice? ” 
he exclaimed as Mr. Patterson related what he 
knew. “ Then it wasn’t wilful breaking of 
bounds? ” 

“ Apparently not,” said the master, “ but I con- 
fess I’m very vague myself on the details.” 

That the lost ones had been found spread 
quickly through the school, which in study room 
and corridor had been anxiously discussing the 
probable fate of the missing ones. 

“ Did any one see them ? ” Conway had asked. 

“ Kent played a while on the hockey scrub 
against us. The last I saw of him he was skating 
off.” 

“ Comb the school for information,” was Con- 
231 


PHILIP KENT 


way's order, and finally, by this method, the boy 
whom they had passed at the mouth of the stream 
recalled the incident. It was this information 
which had sent Mr. Patterson hot foot in his auto- 
mobile, hoping against hope that what his imagi- 
nation feared had in truth not occurred. 

When rescuer and rescued returned in state the 
next afternoon, none the worse for their adventure, 
the school mobbed them for information, and 
when Bacon in a graphic account had supplied 
the missing details, Tait became the hero of the 
hour. Philip was in a very embarrassing position. 
It was humiliating that it had been necessary to 
rescue him. Not that he, in a burst of feeling 
which gripped him when he first realized all that 
Tait had done, failed to give his rescuer full meed 
of praise. 

“ It was mighty brave of you, Jack," he said, 
“ coming in that way. I don't believe I could 
have gotten ashore without your help." 

“ Oh," said Tait deprecatingly, “ I guess you 
could, only I didn't want to take any chances, and 
I knew that if I broke the ice for you you 
wouldn't have any trouble." 

“ Well, perhaps," admitted Philip. “ Still, I 
won’t forget it." 

But his was a nature not to rest easily under 
obligations to another, and as the days went on he 
232 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


found it increasingly irksome to be reminded how 
much he owed the other. He also felt as though 
he had lost a certain amount of prestige ; as though 
the younger boys were looking to Tait and not to 
him. Not that he had real occasion to feel in this 
way, for the welcome he had received, the warm 
expressions of good-will and of rejoicing that he 
had been rescued, showed him without possibility 
of question that he stood high in the affections of 
the school. But the very expressions which were 
meant in all kindliness to show the interest of the 
speakers in him, being coupled of necessity with 
the thought that he had been rescued, ate more 
and more into his pride. 

Tait, for his part, with great delicacy of feeling, 
tried to avoid giving Philip any reason for think- 
ing that he had a claim upon him, but unfortu- 
nately in adopting this attitude fell into the error 
of being too offhanded, with the result that the 
two boys grew no closer together as a result of 
their adventure. The excitement of the event 
once over, the school rapidly recovered from its 
attack of hero worship, for as a disgruntled mem- 
ber of the lower school said, “ It’s all very fine for 
them to be made much of, but the chief result I 
can see is that the stream has been put out of 
bounds for the rest of the winter.” 

“ It seems to me,” said Bacon one evening just 

233 


PHILIP KENT 


before the school was to break up for the Christ- 
mas holidays, “ that we ought to remember Mrs. 
Warnock. How about clubbing our money to- 
gether and buying her a present? ” 

“ Fine idea/’ said Rodney. “ I’m in on that.” 
Nor were the two individuals mostly concerned 
backward in taking up the suggestion. 

“ I haven’t much money, though,” objected 
Philip. 

“ Of course not, stupid,” retorted Bacon, “ but 
you will have after Christmas. I dare say we’re 
as poor as church-mice now.” 

“ What shall we get ? ” 

“ Oh, I don’t know,” said Bacon loftily. “ Some- 
thing nice.” 

“ Yes,” persisted Rodney, “but what?” 

When it came down to a choice the friends 
found it very difficult to come to a conclusion. 

“ How about a watch ? ” 

“ No ; that would be all right for a man.” 

“ Well, let’s give it to old Silas. He did the 
most for us,” said Tait. 

“Not on your life he didn’t,” objected Bacon. 
“The Missus did it all, because she made him 
go.” 

“ I have it ! ” said The Minute finally, with a 
twinkle in his eye. 

“ What ? ” demanded the others. 

234 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“ A nice big bottle of jamaica ginger.” 

“ Oh, get out,” said Bacon ; “ this is serious ; 
this isn't any joke.” 

“ Well, then,” said Rodney, sitting back, “ you 
make a suggestion if you don't like mine.” 

“ Give her a pin or something.” 

“ No,” demurred Philip, thinking busily. “ I’ll 
tell you what. Let's have our photograph taken 
all together and put it in one of those big, flat, 
silver frames. We can have her initials marked 
on the top.” 

Imbued with his idea, Philip enlarged on the 
details. “ At the bottom we can have our names 
and the date.” 

The others considered this suggestion thought- 
fully. 

“ Well,” said Bacon, “ I don't know. That 
sounds pretty good. What do you think, Jack ? ” 

“ It's the best thought we’ve had yet. I move 
we do it.” And the motion was carried. As it 
was Philip's idea, he was appointed a committee 
of one to make the purchase during the holidays. 

“ You've got lots of money now,” said Bacon. 

“ Or will have,” interrupted Philip sardonically, 
11 when you fellows pay me back. Each of you 
had better send me a check for your share the day 
after Christmas, then there won't be any mistake 
about my buying it.” 


235 


PHILIP KENT 

" Suspicious individual you are,” commented 
Baconfat. 

“ It’s not that,” protested Philip, “ but I want 
some money to spend during the holidays myself. 
It won’t do me any good up here.” 

“ You can always spend it on us,” suggested Ba- 
con. “ Mr. Mack’s store isn’t out of bounds that I 
know of. However, we’ll send you the money, 
and be sure you get the best frame possible. See 
that you spell my name correctly.” 

“ That’s easy,” said Philip ; but as a sudden 
thought dawned upon him : “ What are her in- 
itials ? ” 

Bacon looked inquiringly at the others and 
scratched his head. “ I don’t know,” he admitted. 
“ I’ll appoint The Minute a committee of one to 
find out. The matron can probably tell you,” he 
added, as The Minute seemed disinclined for the 
job. “ You’re elected. You can’t back out.” 

The first question Bacon asked of his friends 
when, the holidays over, they assembled once 
more in North Corridor, was : “ Well, let’s see it.” 

“ What’s your rush ? I can’t show it to you till 
I unpack my trunk, can I ? ” 

“ You got it all right, then?” persisted Bacon. 

“ Indeed I did, and it’s a beauty. I deserve a 
vote of thanks, backed up by three soda waters for 
my trouble.” 


236 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“ Well,” was the answer, “ I won’t begrudge you 
that if you’ve done your job well.” 

The frame met with universal approval. They 
stood it up on the table and gazed at it from 
various angles. 

“ Just feel the weight of that silver,” said Philip 
proudly. 

“ Gee, it is heavy.” 

“ How shiny it is.” 

“ Don’t put your fingers all over it,” objected 
the proud purchaser as Tait investigated too 
closely. “ It’s been lacquered, and you’ll rub it 
off.” 

“ Lacquered ? ” queried The Minute. “ What’s 
that for?” 

“ My, but you’re ignorant. Why, it’s stuff 
they put over silver to keep it from getting tar- 
nished ; then you don’t have to clean it every 
week.” 

“ That’s a good idea, all right,” said Bacon crit- 
ically, “ but I miss my guess if Mrs. Warnock 
doesn’t polish it up nevertheless before it has been 
in the house an hour. There was nothing slov- 
enly about her kitchen.” 

The photograph to fit the frame had been taken 
of the four boys in skating costumes. “ It will 
give it more point,” exclaimed Bacon as he sug- 
gested the idea. 


237 


PHILIP KENT 


11 It certainly looks fine in the frame, too. Do 
you think she’ll like it?” 

“ She ought to,” said Bacon flatly. “ Let’s take 
it down to-morrow.” 

With the gift carefully wrapped in tissue paper, 
tied resplendently with red ribbon purchased at 
Mr. Mack’s, the four friends started on the pilgrim- 
age. 

“ I move we approach the house by the road 
this time,” said The Minute with a grin. “ I’ve 
had enough of the marsh.” 

“ Rather,” agreed the others. 

Their progress was very much in the nature of 
a triumphal procession. Bulky as their package 
was, each insisted upon taking turns in carrying 
it, though boylike they disguised the real reason 
for insisting upon sharing the load. 

“ Aren’t you getting tired carrying that?” 
asked Philip with a great air of concern. 

“ Oh, no,” Bacon retorted loftily. “ It’s no 
weight at all.” 

Philip, however, insisted, and with reluctance 
Bacon yielded over the precious gift. Jack Tait 
in his turn insisted upon, as he expressed it, 
“ doing his share of the work,” and it took The 
Minute to blurt out the real state of their feelings. 
He surveyed them scornfully. 

“ You bluffers,” he said. “ It’s my turn now. 

238 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


I know it isn't heavy, but I just want to share in 
carrying it." 

The Warnock farm lay wrapped in a mantle of 
fresh fallen snow. Apparently they were the first 
and only visitors to come by way of the front door, 
for the steps lay hidden under an unmarked cov- 
ering. Philip’s brisk tattoo on the door, however, 
brought speedy response. “ Afternoon, Mrs. War- 
nock I ’’ burst out the quartette, as she appeared 
before them, her face lighting into a cordial smile 
as she recognized her visitors. 

“ Well, well ; I’m glad to see you again. None 
of you took any harm that night, I reckon, from 
the look of you.’’ 

“ No indeed," said Philip as they trooped in 
after her to the warm kitchen. “ Thanks to you 
we didn’t even catch cold." 

“ Do you hear that?" said Mrs. Warnock with 
satisfaction. “ I always did believe that hot 
blankets and a touch of jamaica ginger was the 
best treatment possible. Sit right down and make 
yourselves to home," she went on, and she drew 
up chairs before the fire. 

“ Where’s Mr. Warnock ? ’’ inquired Bacon po- 
litely after a pause, as no one seemed inclined to 
broach the real purpose of their presence. 

“Silas? Oh, he’s down along the pond. 
They’ve been getting in ice all this week. He 
239 


PHILIP KENT 


ought to be back pretty soon, though. Did you 
want to see him ? ” 

The question presented to them in this fashion, 
the four boys looked at each other. It suddenly 
flashed across their minds that they had neglected 
to choose a spokesman, and much to Mrs. War- 
nock’s mystification, they exchanged rapid glances 
accompanied with vigorous nods of the head. 

“ You do it,” said Tait in a stage whisper to 
Bacon. “ It was your idea.” 

“ You fell in,” was the latter’s retort. 

“ Save us, what’s got into the boys ! ” exclaimed 
Mrs. Warnock. 

Bravely Bacon stepped into the breach. 

“ Why,” he began hesitatingly, “ you see, Mrs. 
Warnock, you were mighty good to us last month.” 

“ Don’t you get worked up over that,” said Mrs. 
Warnock protestingly. “ I only did what any one 
with blood in her veins would have done.” 

“ No,” said Bacon, “ you did a lot more than 
that, and in thinking it over we thought we’d like 
to give you a little present to remember the occa- 
sion by.” 

Mrs. Warnock opened her eyes wide, overcome 
by the idea. “ Oh, dear,” she said ; “ I hope 
you boys haven’t been spending all your pocket 
money.” 

Bacon raised his hand magnificently. These 
240 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


interruptions were very trying ; they took all the 
snap out of his speech. 

“ Well,” he concluded lamely, “ that’s the way 
we felt about it, so we bought you this,” and he 
handed over the ribboned package. 

“ 1 do declare,” exclaimed Mrs. Warnock, flush- 
ing like a girl at receiving a present. “ Now isn’t 
that pretty? ” 

She turned the parcel over in her hand and ex- 
amined it from all corners. “ You certainly have 
done that up pretty.” Her curiosity as to the 
covering satisfied, she carefully untied the ribbon, 
and with housewifery thrift smoothed it across 
her knee before folding it carefully. The boys, 
who were itching with impatience to find out if 
their present met with approval, found these pre- 
liminaries very trying. However, the ribbon once 
disposed of, the other wrapping was quickly 
thrown aside and the box opened. 

“ Well, well,” said Mrs. Warnock as she drew 
out the red plush bag which enclosed the frame. 
“ I never saw anything prettier than that,” but 
her face took on a puzzled look as she removed 
the bag and patted it. The question that was run- 
ning rapidly through her brain was : “ Now what 
is this bag for ? ” 

Its magnificence entirely precluded her from 
grasping the fact that there might be something 
241 


PHILIP KENT 

inside of it. Tait was the first one to sense the 
situation. 

“ Look inside now, Mrs. Warnock,” he said. 
“ That’s only the covering.” 

She flushed a little in confusion but obeyed 
Tait’s suggestion and drew forth the frame. For 
a moment she was absolutely speechless. “ My 
land ! And all your photographs, too,” she said, 
realizing the fact for the first time. “ What’s all 
this writing ? ” She held the frame up to the 
light and then shook her head. 

“ I must get my specs,” she said. 

Tait took the frame from her hand. “ Don’t 
bother ; I’ll read it to you,” he said tactfully. 
“ Up here we put your initials, M. S. W., and down 
here are our four names — Thomas Bacon, Philip 
Kent, John Tait, Rodney Moore, and then the 
date. We just wanted to make sure,” he went on, 
“ that you wouldn’t forget us.” 

“ I wasn’t going to do that, anyway,” she said 
simply, “ but I certainly am pleased to get this. 
It will look real nice on my center table in the par- 
lor. I do wish Silas was here.” She ran to the 
window. “ There he comes now.” She flew to 
the kitchen door, threw it open and called, “ Silas ! 
Oh, Silas, come here.” 

Silas who, perched on top of a load of ice, was 
passing through the farmyard, looked distinctly 
242 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


alarmed at the shrill tone of his wife’s voice, and 
hurried to her. 

“What’s wrong, mother?” he called. 

“ Come here and see the present I have.” 

Looking very much puzzled, he stumped into 
the room. “ Well, you boys, glad to see you. Is 
this what the wife’s making all the fuss about? 
Not that I wonder,” he added, “ ’cause she’s often 
asked after you.” 

“Silas, look here,” and his wife shoved the 
frame in front of his face. “ They bought me this 
beautiful frame with their picture in it, and all 
engraved with my name and theirs, and the date.” 

“ Well, I swan,” said Silas ; “ that’s a handsome 
present.” 

With much ceremony the gift was installed in 
the center of the marble top table between the 
windows in the parlor. 

“ There,” said Mrs. Warnock, smoothing the 
table cover with her hands, and dusting off some 
imaginary specks of dust with her apron. “ It 
certainly looks pretty, doesn’t it, Silas?” 

“ Tell her about the lacquer,” said Rodney, in- 
tent upon seeing that no part of their gift was un- 
appreciated. 

“ Oh,” said Philip doubtfully. “ Well,” as Mrs. 
Warnock turned inquiringly, “ I had it lacquered 
— sort of stuff they put over it so that the silver 

243 


PHILIP KENT 


won't tarnish," he explained. “ If you handle it 
carefully you will never have to clean it." 

“ What's that? Some newfangled New York 
idea?" said Mrs. Warnock disdainfully. “ You 
needn't have taken all that trouble, young man. 
That frame's going to get a good polish once a 
week, lacquer or no lacquer ! ” 


244 


CHAPTER XVI 


REBELLION 

Though the stream had been put out of bounds 
as a result of Philip's adventure, skating within 
certain restricted limits continued all the winter 
upon Parker Pond. Occasionally a fall of snow 
would turn the thoughts of the school to other 
sports, but unless the fall was exceedingly heavy, 
the school, turning out with brooms, were able to 
keep a goodly part in usable condition. It must 
be confessed that Philip was a little chary of the 
ice for some time, and except when forced to fol- 
low the lead of his companions, spent a great por- 
tion of his time in the gymnasium. He was not 
wasting his time, for with the indoor meet loom- 
ing on the horizon he needed all the practice he 
could get, especially as his increased weight no 
longer permitted his participation in the junior 
events, and it was necessary for him to compete 
against the upper school. 

He was not alone in this work. There was al- 
ways a large percentage of boys who preferred it to 
outdoor sports. Almost any afternoon not taken 
245 


PHILIP KENT 


up with a hockey game or practice, Conway could 
be found industriously putting the shot, in com- 
pany with Martin and Doane. Peters, who, as the 
years had passed, had become a remarkably good 
high jumper, with hopes of breaking the school 
record, practiced assiduously at his favorite event, 
and so on through the whole programme. Philip 
had settled down to no particular event, but was 
trying his skill in all. When Peters permitted, 
which was not often, he joined him, but as the 
latter was capable of clearing the bar well over 
five feet, and Philip had not cleared four feet 
eleven, Peters very seldom tolerated his com- 
pany. 

“Why are you always butting in just when I 
want to practice ? ” he said one afternoon. “ Can’t 
you come some other time ? ” 

“ I didn’t know you minded,” said Philip, “ and 
besides, I thought we all could practice when we 
wanted to.” 

“ Don’t get fresh. I don’t want to keep the bar 
down to your limit, you know. Just run along 
now like a good fellow.” 

Philip, however, wanted to learn ; knew that 
Peters’ form was good, and persisted in hanging 
around, until finally Peters broke out : “ Oh, take 
a hint,” he said ; “ darn you. Go play with the 
juniors, where you belong.” 

246 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


Philip, much disgruntled, retired and attempted 
to join Conway. 

“ Don’t come around here,” said the latter. 
“ You’re not big enough to try the shot. You’d 
kill yourself ; and besides, I’m practicing and 
don’t want to be interrupted.” 

“ I don’t see how we fellows are going to learn,” 
growled Philip, “ if the sixth gets so crusty,” but 
nevertheless he turned away. 

“ Here, Lippy,” called Manville, “ come over 
and practice the standing broad jump with me.” 
Manville was still in the junior class. 

“Oh, no,” said Philip; “what’s the use? I 
think I’ll go skating,” and disgruntled, he 
changed his clothes and left the gymnasium. It 
was too late to go skating, and his friends had all 
departed, so he wandered down to the village store 
and indulged in some soda water. He was still 
sitting there when the first arrivals from the pond 
trooped in, thirsty and cold. They thronged 
around the narrow marble top counter, occupying 
all the seats and lining up three deep. They were 
in the middle of their feast when some of the sixth 
appeared. 

“ Gee, what a crowd ! ” said Potter. “ Why 
don’t some of you youngsters make room for your 
betters ? ” 

“ I don’t see why these kids should monopolize 
247 


PHILIP KENT 


this place at this hour,” objected Doane. “ 1 
think we had better draw up some regulations 
about it. It’s a nuisance.” 

“ Aren't you kids nearly due at study hour ? ” 
suggested Potter. 

Philip glanced at the clock. “ Twenty minutes 
yet,” he said. 

“ Well, you'd better be getting along.” 

Philip, in company with the others, soon left 
the sixth form in possession of the soda fountain, 
but further developments were due from this 
chance encounter. That night after supper, idling 
in the sixth form room, Potter broached the idea, 
the germ of which had been planted in his mind 
that afternoon. 

“ It's an awful nuisance when you want a cup 
of hot chocolate to have to compete with the lower 
school down at Mr. Mack's,” he said lazily from 
where he sprawled on the divan. 

“ Yes, it is,” admitted Conway, “ but I don't 
know just how we can help it.” 

“ Let’s make a rule about the lower school not 
to be allowed in Mr. Mack's after four-thirty. They 
haven’t any business there after that, anyway, on 
account of study hour.” 

“ It doesn't seem quite fair,” said Conway. 

“ Oh, that will give them all the time they need 
to fill up,” said Doane. “ Let's do it.” 

248 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


The idea was suggested to the remainder of the 
sixth form, and as none of the members cared 
much one way or the other, and Potter was some- 
what insistent, the idea was adopted. 

“ Gee whiz ! ” said Bacon the next day at recess, 
standing in front of the bulletin board. “ The 
nerve of that, to want Mr. Mack’s all to themselves. 
Aren’t they the hogs ? ” 

“ What’s the trouble?” said Philip, coming up 
from behind. Bacon nodded wrathfully at the 
bulletin board. Philip read : “ Notice ! After 
this date the lower school must not patronize Mr. 
Mack’s after four-thirty p. m. By order of the 
Sixth Form. R. L. Potter, Secretary.” 

“ That’s a nice howdy-do.” Philip was equally 
angry. “ I don’t see what right they have to do 
that.” “ Nor I, either.” “ Nor I,” said other 
voices. The crowd was gathering. 11 Why, that’s 
just when we get back from skating. It’s a mean 
trick.” 

“ You bet it is,” said Bacon, “ but I suppose 
we’ll have to obey it.” 

“ You bet you will, Baconfat,” said a sarcastic 
voice from the near-by stairs. Bacon had let his 
voice rise and Potter had overheard him. “ Don’t 
make any mistake about that,” went on the 
sixth former, “ or there’ll be trouble for some- 
body.” 


249 


PHILIP KENT 


In matters of this kind the sixth form reigned 
supreme, and though there was a storm of grum- 
bling and much outspoken protest when the lower 
school gathered by itself, after the first surprise 
little was said in the presence of the upper school. 
For the first few days after the posting of the order, 
Potter and the others who were responsible for it 
made it a point of being on hand at four-thirty to 
make sure that the lower school understood the 
mandate. As the hour approached, Potter would 
take out his watch and look quizzically at those 
members of the lower school who were present. 
“ Skedaddle,” he said. 

Protests died unuttered and the lower school 
obeyed. It was particularly hard on those boys 
who delayed to the last moment before taking off 
their skates. To them it was nothing short of 
torment to pass the brilliantly lighted door, 
through which they could see a merry crowd 
drinking an unlimited supply of the hot chocolate 
which they so much wanted. But orders were 
orders, and none ventured in. Philip, however, 
grew restive under the prohibition. Coming back 
late one afternoon with Bacon, he announced his 
determination. 

“ Pm going in for a hot chocolate. Come along.” 

Bacon glanced across the road at the clock in 
the church steeple. “ Too late,” he said. “ It's 
250 




IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


after the time,” though he looked longingly at the 
store. 

Philip was stubborn. “ I’m going,” he said, 
“ whether you do or not. I’m a member of the 
school team ; they haven’t any right to keep me 
out.” 

“Don’t be a fool, Philip. You’ll just get into 
trouble. What’s the use of getting the upper 
school down oil you ? ” 

“ Don’t come if you don’t want to. I’m going,” 
and he marched up the steps. 

Bacon looked at his retreating head. “ Not for 
me,” he said. 

Philip found the store empty of patrons, and he 
perched luxuriously on a stool in front of the 
counter. “ Hot chocolate, Mr. Mack,” he an- 
nounced. 

Mr. Mack looked at him and glanced at the 
clock, but said nothing. He wasn’t going to drive 
away patronage. “ We have some nice hot dogs 
to-day,” he said over his shoulder insinuatingly. 
He lifted the cover off a steaming bowl, speared a 
sausage, and held it up to view. “ Have one ? ” 
he said. 

“ Think I will. Put in lots of mustard.” 

Philip was in the middle of his feast when the 
sixth form in the person of Perry and Peters 
arrived, and stormed the counter. 

251 


PHILIP KENT 


“Hot chocolate. Two of them, Mr. Mack,” 
said Perry without preamble, and then, as he 
settled himself on a seat, turned to look at 
Philip. 

“Hmp! How about this?” he said. “It 
seems to me I remember some rule about the lower 
school keeping out of here after four-thirty.” 

“ Oh,” said Philip between bites, “ I didn’t sup- 
pose that referred to me, as a member of the school 
team.” 

At this Perry looked doubtful. “ Well,” he 
said, “ I don’t know that it does, but I don’t 
remember anything in the rule which would 
except you from its restrictions. However, finish 
your dog ; I won’t drive you out.” 

Philip walked out of the store twenty minutes 
later, his head in the air. He had taken a chance 
and won. 

“ Hmp ! ” he said as he went on a dog-trot up the 
hill. “ I didn’t think the upper school would 
have the nerve to keep me out.” 

Back in Mr. Mack’s, however, a conversation 
was taking place which would have punctured 
something of Philip’s self-esteem. 

“ Say, Potter,” called Perry, as the former drifted 
in, “how about this rule of yours? Did you 
mean it to include Kent ? ” 

“Kent? Sure. Why not?” 

252 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“ Well, he was in here a minute ago. Said the 
rule didn't refer to members of the team, so I 
thought I'd ask you about it.” 

“ The young sinner ! ” ejaculated Potter. “ He's 
a fresh individual, all right. We'll have to take 
him down a peg or two if he doesn't mind his p's 
and q’s.” 

Potter lost no time in acquainting Philip with 
his ruling. “ We’ll pass it over this time,” he 
said, 11 because there is a chance you didn't under- 
stand, but don't let it happen again. The rule 
applies to everybody in the lower school.” 

For the time being Philip was forced to swallow 
this ultimatum. “ I told you not to try it,” said 
Bacon, when told of the result of Philip’s daring. 

“ They didn't do anything to me,” boasted 
Philip. “ I'll do it again if I feel like it. What 
could they do to me, anyway ? ” 

In the face of such brazen talk as this Bacon 
refused to answer. A few days later, unwittingly 
this time, Philip again transgressed. He had been 
exercising in the gymnasium, felt thirsty, but too 
lazy to go to the village. 

“ Hey there, Abbott,” he called, catching sight 
of a first former. “ Hurry down to Mr. Mack’s 
and get me a bottle of sarsaparilla and ten cents’ 
worth of ‘sultanas.’ Here's the money. You’ve 
got lots of time before study hour. Take a soda 
253 


PHILIP KENT 

yourself while you’re down there ; here’s an extra 
nickel.” 

With a grin of thanks the small boy sped away, 
and it was not until he danced up the steps and 
into the store to confront a group of sixth form- 
ers that he realized it was after the prohibited 
hour. 

“ Well, well,” said Doane, catching sight of the 
small figure. “ What are you doing here? ” 

“ I forgot,” stammered Abbott. “ Philip Kent 
asked me to get him some things.” 

“ He did ? ” said Doane, turning to his compan- 
ions. “ So Kent is getting others to break our 
rules for him, is he? We’ll have to look into this. 
See here, kid. Just you run back to Kent and 
tell him that the store is closed to the lower 
school.” 

Abbott held his ground. “ Understand ? ” said 
Doane, scowling. 

“ Yes,” stammered Abbott, “ but Kent gave me 
a nickel to get a soda for myself.” 

The group laughed. “ Well, there’s no reason 
that I can see why we should save Mr. Lippy his 
nickel,” said Ellis. “ Go ahead, kid, and spend 
it, but don’t forget you’re not to fill his order.” 

Philip was an angry boy when Abbott returned 
with the message. 

“ Well,” he said, “ give me back my money 
254 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


then. Where’s that extra nickel ? ” he demanded, 
as he received the change. 

“ They told me to take my soda and pay for 
it.” 

In face of Philip’s angry frown Abbott was 
a little doubtful about the course he had pursued 
in thus taking his wages without having earned 
them. 

“ You’re a greedy kid,” said Philip sourly. 
“ Couldn’t you sneak me a bottle while you were 
about it ? ” 

“ I didn’t dare,” pleaded the boy. 

“ Don’t take it out on Abbott,” said Doane, sud- 
denly appearing on the scene, “ but I’d like some 
explanation from you for sending him down there 
after hours. Don’t you know our rule yet ? ” 

“ Darn your old rule, Doane,” growled Philip. 
“ To tell you the truth I never thought about it, 
and I don’t believe it covers this sort of thing any- 
way, does it? ” 

“ You’ll find out pretty soon whether it does or 
not,” said Doane severely. 

“ Oh, you fellows make me tired,” retorted 
Philip, and swung on his heel. 

The immediate vicinity of a beehive into which 
a dog had blundered was a quiet place in compar- 
ison to the sixth form room the next day. Some 
one during the night had defaced the notice on 
255 


PHILIP KENT 


the bulletin board and scribbled derogatory re- 
marks thereon concerning the sixth. 

“Who do you suppose did it? We’ve got to 
find out and punish him,” said Conway. “ This 
is a direct blow at the dignity of the upper 
school.” 

“What is written?” “What did they do to 
it ? ” asked several late comers hearing the news 
for the first time. Conway waved at the table on 
which lay the defaced notice. 

“ Down with the sixth ! ” read Peters. “ Ty- 
rants I ” “ Restraint of trade ! ” “ The lower 

school demands the right to eat at Mr. Mack’s 
whenever it is hungry ! ” 

“ Jehoshaphat ! ” said Peters ; “ this is serious. 
Have you any idea who is the guilty one ? ” 

“ It must have been some kid in the first or sec- 
ond,” suggested Ellis, “ who thought he would be 
funny.” 

“ I don’t think so,” said Doane. “I think it’s 
Kent. He’s the one who’s been kicking up all 
the row about it.” 

“Kent?” echoed the others. “ Oh, he has too 
much sense to do a thing like that. He’s just 
as keen on discipline as we are. Remember, he’s 
practically leader of the lower school.” 

“ I don’t care,” persisted Doane. “ I had a row 
with him only last night about it.” 

256 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

II Well,” said Martin, “ how are we going to find 
out? Ask him?” 

“ No,” said Conway, thoughtfully. “ It's too 
serious. Does any one recognize that handwrit- 
ing ? ” 

They all leaned over the table and studied the 
notice. “ No,” said one after the other, “ no, I 
wouldn’t know it from a bunch of beets ; it might 
be Kent’s and it might not.” 

II I have the idea,” announced Conway suddenly. 
“ The lower school has just gotten through its mid- 
year examination. I’ll get the history papers of 
the fourth form from Mr. Patterson. We ought 
to be able to trace it that way. I don’t believe 
whoever did it took the trouble to disguise his 
handwriting.” 

“ Good idea, Jack,” agreed Doane. “ Fly to it.” 

“ All right. We’ll have a meeting this evening ; 
I’ll get the papers.” 

The school was agog all day wondering who 
had dared to attack the sixth form. The lower 
school, of course, had seen the paper long before 
any of the sixth, and already the unknown crimi- 
nal was being praised by all. 

“ Gee,” said Rodney with a shiver, “ I wouldn’t 
have had the nerve to do that. The sixth will 
fairly murder him if they find out. Restraint 
of trade ! That’s a good one.” 

257 


PHILIP KENT 


“ I imagine Bacon did it,” suggested Tait. “ He 
was getting awfully worried about being cut off 
from his food.” 

“ No fear,” was the answer. “ I haven’t quite 
lost all my senses yet.” 

When Conway appeared that evening in the 
sixth form room with a bundle of papers under 
his arm, an eager audience awaited him. 

“ It strikes me,” he said as he deposited his load 
on the table, “ that the fairest way to do this 
would be not to show the names until after we 
have matched up the handwriting. In that way 
there can be no possibility of favoritism.” 

“ Did you tell Mr. Patterson why you wanted 
the list of papers ? ” asked Doane. 

“I gave him a hint,” said Conway laughingly, 
“ and he thoroughly agreed that the culprit should 
be found. I think, though, he rather felt the 
whole thing to be a joke.” 

“ There’s no joke about it,” retorted Doane se- 
verely. “ Come on.” 

Conway mixed together all the papers, which 
had been alphabetically arranged, spread the mu- 
tilated notice upon the table, and laid one of the 
papers beside it. 

“ He didn’t do it,” said all with one voice. 

“ All agreed ? ” asked Conway. 

“ Sure,” said Doane ; “ nothing like it. Next.” 

258 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“ How about this one ? ” 

“ Hm,” said Ellis, “ he crosses his t's pretty 
much in the same way.” 

“ Yes,” said Conway, “ but the handwriting is 
irregular. I think we can pass him safely.” 

One by one the papers were examined. Most 
were passed over after a glance. One or two 
which bore a close resemblance, however, were 
laid aside for a further examination. 

“ It’s not going to be so easy as we thought,” 
commented Conway. “ None of them are really 
like it on all points.” He turned up another 
paper. 

“ Ah,” said Doane at his first glance, “ now I 
think we have him.” 

“ Yes,” said Conway, studying the two hand- 
writings. “ They're almost identical.” 

“ Of course,” broke in Doane, “ we must make 
allowance for the difficulty of writing on the bul- 
letin board, and in a hurry at that.” 

“ Well,” said Conway, “ I think we have him 
myself, but to be perfectly fair we ought to look 
through the rest.” 

The remainder of the papers yielded no more 
possibilities. 

“ Well,” said Conway, “ here we have four. 
Let's look them over again.” 

“There's nothing to it, to my mind,” said 
259 


PHILIP KENT 


Doane, leaning back. “ That last one was written 
by the same hand that wrote on our notice. I’ll 
wager my hat on it.” 

Conway looked around the circle. “ Do you 
agree on that?” he asked. 

11 Yes I Yes ! Whose is it? ” was the instant re- 
sponse. 

Conway turned to the last page. He looked 
quizzically at Doane. “ I wouldn’t have believed 
it possible, but you’re right, Bill. It’s Philip 
Kent.” 

“ The young viper ! ” said Ellis. “ I never 
thought Kent would do such a thing. Shall we 
have him in and accuse him?” 

Conway looked gravely around and took the 
vote. “ You go and get him, Perry, will you ? 
You’ll find him, I think, up in his room. Just 
tell him that the sixth wants to see him.” 

Philip, a green shade over his eyes, was busily 
working out the next day’s lessons when Perry 
appeared. 

“What do they want me for?” asked Philip, 
when the message was delivered. 

“ Come and see,” said Perry coldly, and de- 
parted without further word. 

Philip lifted the green shade from his forehead 
and grinned across at Rodney Moore. “ I guess 
I’m in for it,” he said. 


260 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

“ Why/’ exclaimed Rodney, who had watched 
Perry's appearance and departure with amaze- 
ment, “it wasn’t you?" The words died on his 
lips. 

Philip nodded coolly. “ Yes," he said, “ I fixed 
their old sign for them. Now let them do their 
worst." 


261 


CHAPTER XVII 


PUNISHMENT 

Philip had put a brave face on the matter in 
the presence of his roommate, but his feelings 
were not enviable as he made his way to the sixth 
form room. If you had asked him, he might have 
found it difficult to explain adequately his reasons 
for doing as he had done. Probably the most you 
could have gotten out of him would have been : 
“ Oh, I don’t know ; the sign looked very tempt- 
ing and I was angry. I don’t know why I did it.” 
But whatever his reasons, whether or not his sober 
judgment would cause him to regret the impulsive 
act, now that the deed was done, now that he was 
about to be called to account for it, a stubbornness 
developed in him which made him if anything 
rather glad that he had transgressed. With this 
went a brazen intention to face it out. “ What 
can they do to me, anyway?” he muttered to 
himself. “ I’m a fourth former and a member of 
the eleven. They’ll give me a hot lecture and 
that will be the end of it. What do I care ! ” 

For all this bravado, Philip experienced a cool- 
ing of the spirit when he walked into the room 
262 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

and found the circle of sixth formers awaiting 
him. Gone was the warm comradeship of the 
football season. Gone was the open-handed wel- 
come to which he had been accustomed. His 
judges, beyond a mere nod at his entrance, pre- 
served a cold silence. 

“Perry said that you wanted to see me?” he 
announced interrogatively as he entered. 

“ Yes, Kent,” said Conway gravely, “ we did.” 

Nothing serious, I hope,” rejoined Philip flip- 
pantly. Several of the circle scowled, but Con- 
way preserved a dignified silence. 

“ Some time ago, Kent,” Conway began after a 
few moments, “ the sixth form posted a notice to 
the effect that the lower school was to keep away 
from Mr. Mack’s after four-thirty in the afternoon. 
On at least two occasions you have broken this 
rule. Some time between last evening and this 
morning some one defaced the sign on the bulle- 
tin board and wrote scurrilous remarks about the 
sixth. We consider this a very serious matter, 
and as we have reason to believe that you are the 
guilty one, you have been called down to be ques- 
tioned. Did you do it ? ” 

While Conway was speaking a thousand 
thoughts raced through Philip’s brain. He knew 
that no one had seen him deface the sign, and 
therefore believed that any accusation must ne- 
263 


PHILIP KENT 

cessarily be founded entirely upon suspicion and 
not on evidence. If accused, should he stand on 
his rights and refuse to answer ; should he deny 
it flatly, or should he admit it? Up to the last 
moment, until Conway's direct question, Philip 
was undecided what to do. He inclined some- 
what toward refusing to answer, but when Con- 
way asked “ Did you do it ? " he vacillated no 
longer. To the direct question there seemed but 
one answer to give. 

“ Yes," he said coolly, “ I did it," and then 
added spontaneously, “ What are you going to do 
about it? " 

A wave of repressed feeling had circled the 
room at Philip's admission. Feeling morally sure 
from the evidence they had secured that the boy 
in front of them had in fact defaced the sign, they 
hoped that he would not deny his guilt ; that 
would have been a smirch upon the honor of Mal- 
vern — the deed itself was nothing more than in- 
subordination. If Philip had known it, his in- 
stant acknowledgment made many of his judges 
lenient, but the challenge with which he ended 
his admission lost him this advantage, and he 
confronted judges who were determined now that 
no jot of punishment should be abated which could 
restore untarnished the dignity of the sixth form. 

Conway was speaking. “ I'm glad you admitted 
264 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


it, Kent,” he said, “ but I'm sorry you take 
the affair in this spirit. I do not know as yet 
what we shall do, but you may rest assured that 
we shall do something. You may go now, for the 
present.” 

“ All right,” said Philip, turning on his heel. 
“ It seems to me a big fuss about nothing. How- 
ever, let me know what you decide.” 

Left to themselves, the sixth boiled over with 
indignation. “ The nerve of him ! ” said Jones. 
“ We can’t stand for anything like that.” The 
others agreed excitedly, and clustered around 
Conway. 

“ We must make him apologize,” said Ellis. 
“ Send him to Coventry,” “ Cock him up,” were 
among the numerous suggestions which shot back 
and forth across the room. 

“ Apology, certainly,” agreed Conway. “ I 
think he should be made to apologize to the sixth 
in the presence of the whole school.” 

“ That’s good, as far as it goes,” said Peters, 
“ but I don’t think it’s enough. What else can 
we do to him ? We not only have to preserve the 
dignity of the form, but we ought to give him a 
lesson which will take the conceit out of him once 
for all.” 

“ It’s a little difficult,” said Conway thought- 
fully, “ to know just what to do. Remember, he’s 
265 


PHILIP KENT 


a fourth former ; he's a member of the eleven, and 
has won his M. We can't treat him quite the 
way we would a first or second former, or we’ll 
have a riot on our hands. Our rule about the 
store wasn't any too popular, and if we punish 
him too severely the lower school will make a 
martyr of him, and we shall end by not doing the 
boy any good.” 

“ That’s true,” admitted Doane, “ and in a good 
many cases I think I'd agree with you, but this 
was such a gratuitous insult to us that I don’t see 
how we can pass it over with only a reprimand. 
The lower school would think we were afraid 
to act, and we’d lose more in discipline that way 
than if we used a heavy hand. I vote for severe 
punishment.” 

A murmur of assent to this speech ran around 
the circle. “ My feeling,” continued Doane, “ is 
that we must teach the lower school, fourth form 
included, that it is the lower school, and as long 
as Dr. Wallace makes us responsible for the tone 
of the school, we are going to make rules and see 
that they are obeyed.” 

“Well,” said Conway, “what sort of punish- 
ment do you suggest? ” 

“ It would be very humiliating to him and 
would do more probably than anything else to 
take the spring out of him if we cocked him up. 

266 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

This is his fourth year in the school, and so far as 
I know an old boy has never been cocked up.” 

“ You’re right,” said Conway ; “ it certainly 
would be humiliating. It might break his spirit. 
Don’t you think that’s too heavy a punishment?” 

“ No,” said several voices. “ He’s been too 
cocky about it. If he had come in here and 
apologized, I might be willing to let him off with 
eating humble pie before the school, but as it is, 
why, confound it all, he practically dared us to do 
anything to him. I move we cock him up.” 
Again a murmur of assent went around the circle. 
I “ Well,” said Conway, “ I’m agreeable if the rest 
of you are. We’ll take a vote.” 

He put the question and there was not a dis- 
senting voice. 

“ That’s settled, then,” he said. “ Now let’s get 
down to particulars.” 

These arranged, Philip was again sent for. The 
boy was already regretting his attitude on his first 
appearance. He felt, however, that he had gone 
too far now to back down, and so preserved his 
swagger when he appeared before them. 

“ We have decided on your punishment, Kent,” 
began Conway without loss of time. “ We feel 
that you have not only been insulting to us, but 
have lowered the standards of Malvern. You’re 
a fourth former, a member of the eleven, and are 
267 


PHILIP KENT 


supposed to show the other forms a good example. 
Next year you enter the upper school. You’ll 
learn then that what the sixth is the school is. 
If the sixth has high standards and enforces them, 
the standard of the school is high. If the sixth 
fails, if it falters in its leadership, the school de- 
teriorates. How do you expect to lead Malvern 
on when you’re put in charge, if you’re insubor- 
dinate in a minor position? You must learn to 
serve before you can lead. You have put us in a 
very difficult position. You were one of us last 
autumn ; you deserved well of the school ; you 
had made your mark. Now you have acted like 
a child, instead of a fourth former, and so we must 
punish you like a child.” 

During this tirade Philip, who had first looked 
his judge squarely in the eye, now hung his head. 
He could see the force of Conway’s remarks, and 
wondered idly why he had not appreciated that 
point of view before. 

“ To-morrow,” went on Conway, “ after dinner, 
in the presence of the whole school, you will 
apologize to the sixth.” Conway paused, and 
Philip’s heart, which had sunk in his breast, took 
a leap of relief. Is that all they would do to him ? 
He didn’t like to apologize, but he felt as though 
he perhaps owed it. 

“ All right,” he said, “ I’ll do that.” 

268 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


11 That's not all,” said Conway ; “ that's only the 
beginning. After you have apologized, the sixth 
will take you out and cock you up.” 

“What's that?” said Philip, startled out of his 
calm. “ Cock me up ? ” he repeated incredu- 
lously ; “ you can't do that. I'm an old boy.” 

“ We know you are,” was the retort, “ but that 
won't save you. If you act with the freshness of 
a new boy, you must expect to be treated like 
one.” 

“ But you can't,” persisted Philip a little wildly^, 
as the realization of what it would mean in hu- 
miliation swept over him. “ That has never been 
done.” 

“ Don't you worry,” broke in Doane with a grim 
chuckle ; “ we're not afraid to make the prece- 
dent.” 

Philip's face, which had gone white, blushed 
fiery red. “ What if I refuse? ” he said, hot with 
anger. His eyes narrowed to slits and his jaw set 
grimly. At that Conway's voice took on a harsher 
note. 

“ I don't think you will refuse,” he said cut- 
tingly, “when you have thought it over. Now 
you may go.” 

Philip stumbled out of the room blindly, over- 
come by this punishment, which was worse than 
anything his imagination had suggested. Cov- 
269 


PHILIP KENT 


entry ; loss of privileges — all those he could have 
borne with head up, if not a light heart ; but to 
be cocked up; to be held up to the humiliation 
of the whole school ; to have this stigma placed 
upon him, was too much, and every fighting in- 
stinct rebelled against yielding to it without a 
struggle. He stalked into his room, white of face 
and silent. 

The Minute regarded him anxiously. “ Well, 
Philip, ” he said. 

“ Darn them ! ” said Philip, swinging himself 
into a chair and gazing gloomingly at the floor. 
“ Darn them ! ” 

Rodney, eager to learn more, but seeing that 
something was seriously wrong, forbore to ques- 
tion his roommate. Philip sat silent. 

“ I’ll not stand for it,” he broke out after a while. 
“ It’s too much.” 

Rodney got up, walked across the room, and 
put his arm around Philip’s shoulder. “ What is 
it?” he asked sympathetically. 

“ They’re going to cock me up,” said Philip pas- 
sionately, arising from his chair and pacing nerv- 
ously around the room. “ Cock me up ! Me ; 
a member of the eleven ; a fourth former. I won’t 
stand for it.” 

Rodney stared at his friend in dismay. “ Cock 
you up ? ” he ejaculated. “ No ! ” 

270 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“ Yes,” said Philip. “ They got me down there 
and Conway talked to me like a Dutch uncle. 
They want me to apologize before the whole 
school. That’s all right ; I have no kick on that. 
If they take their old sign so seriously I suppose 
they’re within their rights to make me apologize, 
but cocking me up, no ! ” 

“ That is going pretty far,” said Rodney, “ but 
what can you do about it? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said Philip, pausing in his 
stride. “ I can fight them, of course.” 

Rodney shook his head decisively. “ No,” he 
said, “ that wouldn’t get you anywhere. Don’t do 
that. There must be some other way out of it.” 
In his turn he walked up and down thinking. 
“ Did you tell them you were sorry ? ” he asked 
finally. 

“No,” said Philip gruffly; “I didn’t. Why 
should I ? I’m not sorry in the way they mean. 
Perhaps it was foolish, and I’m sorry now, of 
course, that I did it, and I’m sorry they kicked up 
such a fuss about it, but it’s only what they de- 
serve, making rules like that.” 

“ Suppose you went to Conway now and told 
him you were sorry ; do you think it would do 
any good ? ” 

“ No,” said Philip bitterly ; “ I don’t. They 
have it in for me.” 


271 


PHILIP KENT 


Silence settled on the room. Philip, seated in 
his chair, legs stretched in front of him, stared 
gloomily at nothing. Rodney, his brain working 
rapidly over every conceivable means of escape for 
his friend, gazed blankly out of the window. 
“ Do you think,” he began timidly, “ do you 

think that I could ” 

“ Intercede ? ” interrupted Philip. “ No, and 
don't you try it. I’m not going to have any one 
begging me off. If their silly old dignity has been 
so damaged that cocking me up is the only way 
to repair it, why, they may do it and welcome. I’ll 
go through with it because I have to, but the sixth 
will find that a high-handed action of this sort 
won’t help them with the lower school ! ” 

It was a long time before either went to sleep. 
The very strength of Philip’s emotions, however, 
at length wore him out, but even then The Min- 
ute, sleepless, could hear his friend tossing and 
muttering in his sleep. 

The school awoke the next day to find a new 
announcement on the bulletin board. Many were 
the questions at first as to what the bare notice : 
“ The sixth form desires the presence of the whole 
school in the schoolroom immediately after din- 
ner,” could mean. It was not long before the 
whole school knew. Having determined upon 
their course of action, the members of the sixth 
272 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


were not loath to let the fact be known that the 
assailer of their dignity had been discovered and 
was to be properly punished. When the news 
spread the lower school stood aghast. 

“ Philip Kent ! ” was the exclamation in every 
group scattered through the building. “ Kent to 
be cocked up 1 ” 

“ I call that an outrage,” declared Bacon. 
“ They haven't any right to do it. I think we 
ought to stop it.” 

“ We could, easily,” said Rodney. “ We out- 
number them four to one. Let's have a rescue.” 

In every corner of the big building that morn- 
ing mutiny and sedition ripened. Many were the 
schemes proposed to prevent this indignity to a 
member of the lower school, but they came to 
naught. The sixth was not unmindful of the 
spirit which prevailed, and all the morning took 
pains to be in evidence, that their constant pres- 
ence might prevent an actual revolt. The fifth, 
jealous of the sixth as it always was, backed the 
older boys grudgingly. Rhoades went so far as to 
shake his head warningly at Conway. 

“ It's unwise,” he said ; “ the apology would 
have been enough.” 

But the sixth, having made up its mind, refused 
to retreat from its position, and gave fair warning 
to the rest of the school that interference in any 
273 


PHILIP KENT 


manner would be visited with the severest penal- 
ties. Conway had explained the situation to Dr. 
Wallace and received permission to hold the meet- 
ing with all masters excluded. The Gorgon had 
contented himself with one warning : “ Don’t 
drive with too tight a rein, Conway,” he said. 
“ It doesn’t always pay, you will learn.” 

It was an unusually solemn school which faced 
Conway when he mounted the platform to open 
the proceedings. The sixth realized the serious- 
ness of the occasion ; realized the danger that at 
any moment open revolt might spring forth, and 
went about its business with celerity. The lower 
school, seething with anger, was cowed by the 
graveness of the situation and needed no admon- 
ishing tap from the chairman’s gavel to come to 
order. 

“ The sixth,” began Conway, “ has asked the 
school to be present to receive an apology. One 
of the members of the fourth form so far forgot 
himself — so far forgot what he owed to the dig- 
nity and good name of Malvern, as to deface a no- 
tice posted by the sixth. We have considered this 
a grave offense, not alone to the upper school, but 
to Malvern, and the apology that is to be made 
will be made primarily to Malvern, though we, as 
leaders, receive it. Philip Kent, stand up.” 

Philip, at his desk in the middle of the room, 
274 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


had been sitting with bowed head. At the call, 
he sprang to his feet, and with head up, eyes flash- 
ing defiance, he did as he had been told. 

“ As Conway says, I defaced that sign. I'm 
sorry I did it. I realize now that it was a foolish 
thing to do, and against the discipline of the school. 
As heads of the school, I apologize to the sixth, and 
through them, to Malvern.” He sat down heavily. 
The school stirred uneasily in the silence that en- 
sued. 

“ The sixth accepts your apology in the name of 
Malvern and for itself,” said Conway. He stopped, 
hesitatingly. Philip looked up quickly. Was 
Conway going to let him off the other after all ? 
The hope aroused by Conway’s hesitancy died 
quickly, for the head of the school went on : 

“ We have felt this to be such a serious infringe- 
ment of discipline that it has been decided that 
Kent must be cocked up. That punishment will 
be in the hands of the sixth form. I shall ask the 
school to remain here until the punishment has 
been administered.” 

Philip, white as a sheet, walked down the aisle. 
The sixth surrounded him, and all disappeared 
through the swinging doors. The school drew a 
long breath. 

“ Looks like an execution,” said Bacon bitterly. 
“ How about a rescue, even now ? ” The thought 
275 


PHILIP KENT 


went whispering from aisle to aisle, and row to 
row of seats, but the fifth, realizing their respon- 
sibility, stood guard, and the mutterings died 
away into silence. 

Outside, Philip took his place before the wall, 
where four years previously, as a new boy, he had 
undergone his initiation. One thing he was grate- 
ful for — the school would not actually see his 
humiliation. He bent over and gritted his teeth 
waiting for the onslaught which he expected to 
burst upon him. Silently, solemnly, the sixth 
lined up. Instead of the stinging thud of an iced 
ball, Philip felt but two or three soft snowballs 
hit him. 

“ Hm ! ” he thought ; “ they’ll begin in earnest 
in a moment.” 

Then, to his surprise, he heard Conway’s voice : 
“ That will do, Kent.” He straightened up in 
amazement. Then the realization of what had 
happened swept over him, and with the realization 
the sting of his humiliation grew sharper. It was 
not physical pain which the sixth had wished 
upon him ; it was pain of the spirit. It was borne 
in upon him that with every iced snowball which 
had not been thrown, his judges had indicated 
that his offense was one which mere physical pun- 
ishment could not touch. He was no youngster 
who could be disciplined by a spanking, and with 
276 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


the realization, marks were made upon his soul 
which would take longer to eradicate than any 
bruises of the body which the sixth could have in- 
flicted. 

“ That's all,” said Conway ; “ you may go.” 

Philip was determined to show the sixth, how- 
ever, that his spirit was not broken, and walked 
off head up and shoulders back, but any one ap- 
proaching him from the front could have seen that 
his eyes blurred and he did not know where he 
was going. 

Once around the corner of the building and out 
of sight, he blundered aimlessly on. His mind 
was in a turmoil. Anger at Conway and the rest 
of the sixth mingled with rage of himself. One 
moment he regretted bitterly what he had done ; 
the next that he had submitted to the punishment 
instead of calling upon the lower school to join 
him in a revolt against overbearing authority. 
How could he face the school again knowing that 
every boy who looked at him would be thinking 
of his downfall? How could he ever hope to 
regain his leadership, he who had tamely sub- 
mitted to such authority ? 

On and on he went. His thoughts chased 
themselves endlessly round and round in his head, 
leading no more than his feet to any definite desti- 
nation. Bareheaded, gloveless, he plunged across 
277 


PHILIP KENT 


the field, now up to his knees in a snow-drift, 
now stumbling over tufted grass where the wind 
had swept the ground clear. He had no sensation 
of cold or of fatigue. A dull rage consumed him 
and he wanted to be alone. 

With the reappearance of the sixth form, the 
school was dismissed, but only on compulsion did 
it scatter to its various afternoon interests. 

“Where has Philip gone?” queried Rodney. 
“ I think we ought to cheer him up.” 

“ Leave him alone,” advised Bacon ; “ he won’t 
want to see any of us just now. He’ll be in no 
mood for talking.” 

“ I don’t like to let him go off by himself,” in- 
sisted Rodney, and braved Conway for information. 

“ Where did he go ? ” 

The sixth former looked down at the sensitive 
face before him. “The last I saw of him,” he said, 
“ he was going round back of the gymnasium.” 

Rodney nodded his thanks, rushed to Philip’s 
room for his hat, and started to trail his friend. 
Philip was not in sight when Rodney reached the 
gymnasium, but his tracks showed plainly across 
the snow. The Minute surveyed the landscape 
doubtfully. “ Those must be his marks,” he said. 
“ I’ll take a chance on it, anyway.” 

Only after some time was he rewarded by sight 
of the one he sought on a distant hill. Philip had 
278 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


been plunging ahead at a great speed, and Rodney 
had lost much time in attempting to follow the 
other’s tracks where they crossed beaten roads or 
open places. At last he drew near. Philip was 
seated on a rock which overlooked the valley. 
Silently The Minute approached and sat down 
beside him without saying anything. Philip 
took no notice of him but continued to gaze 
moodily into space. 

41 Phil, old boy,” ventured The Minute finally, 
and put a hand on the other’s knee. Philip shook 
it off roughly. 

44 Go away,” he said. The Minute lapsed into 
silence and made no offer to move. 44 Here’s your 
toque. You’d better put it on, or you’ll catch 
cold.” He endeavored to slip it on his com- 
panion’s head. 

“ Let me alone, can’t you ? Can’t you see I 
want to be alone ? ” 

44 Don’t take it so hard, Phil. We’re all back 
of you.” 

Philip hunched his shoulders and scowled with- 
out replying. In silence the two sat on the rock 
and watched the sun lengthening out the shadows 
in the valley below. At length Philip arose im- 
patiently. 44 Well,” he said, 44 if you won’t leave, 
I suppose I’ll have to,” and plunged down the 
hill. 


279 


PHILIP KENT 


The Minute stood looking after him doubtfully. 
“ Poor old Philip/’ he said. “ He certainly is 
broken up,” and then with a sigh followed after. 

They plugged along for some time, Philip every 
now and then casting a scowling glance over his 
shoulder at the figure which shadowed him. 
After the last glance he began to run, and seemed 
to take pleasure in choosing his course over the 
most broken country, as though to say : “ I’ll 
shake you off in this way, if I can’t in any other.” 

“Confound him,” said The Minute as he strug- 
gled bravely through the deep snow. “ I have 
half a mind to let him go,” but with the thought 
came the belief that by sticking to the trail he 
might help his friend, and so he kept doggedly 
on. 

The fight with the elements, the malicious 
pleasure which he experienced at the thought of 
Rodney struggling behind him, gradually drew 
Philip’s thoughts away from the numbing circle 
into which they had fallen. His mind became 
clearer, and by the time he and Rodney were in a 
dripping perspiration he had almost worked him- 
self back into a good humor. 

At length he stopped and turned, and waited for 
The Minute. Rodney approached him doubtfully, 
not at all sure as to what his reception would be, 
but the load on his mind lightened when he first 
280 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


heard Philip's voice. It was still gruff, but it held 
a note of affection which had been totally missing 
on the hilltop. 

“ Confound you, Rodney, you old porous plaster. 
Isn't there any way I can get rid of you ? ” 

“ You darn near killed me," said Rodney, “ but 
I'm still in the ring. You’ll have to give me a 
lift from now on." He walked up and thrust his 
arm through Philip's. “ Come on," he said ; “ if 
we stand here we’ll catch our death of colds. I'm 
drenched." Arm in arm the two swung around 
toward the school. Neither spoke, but the touch 
of his friend's elbow helped to loosen the crust of 
aloofness which had begun to form around them, 
and Philip, though he was not yet ready to ac- 
knowledge it, was grateful for Rodney's persist- 
ence. 


281 


CHAPTER XVIII 


A BULLY 

The lower school regarded its idol through very 
much the same eyes as the world looks upon its 
idols who have been found to have feet made of 
clay. Philip Kent, as a member of the school 
eleven, the proud wearer of the M, was a different 
individual from the boy who had been publicly 
chastised by the sixth form. The heights to 
which he had risen made his fall all the more 
hard. The boys whose pleasure it had been to 
anticipate his every wish ; who had begun to re- 
gard him as a Nestor to whom to go for a solution 
of their problems, felt that the act of the sixth had 
reduced Kent once more to the ranks, and they 
treated him or endeavored to treat him as though 
he inhabited the same plane, or even a lower one, 
than themselves. 

The struggle for the leadership in the form be- 
tween himself and Jack Tait ended abruptly. It 
is doubtful if Philip realized the present useless- 
ness of continuing the contest, but he did know 
that the matter no longer interested him, and Tait 
282 


IN THE LOITER SCHOOL 

swept into the leadership without further effort on 
Philip's part to spoil his plans. To tell the truth, 
Tait’s acceptance of the leadership came about 
rather because the school, in looking about for 
one to replace Kent — for the instant need of an 
individual who could decide the bickerings of the 
lower form was realized— cast the mantle upon 
him. The first overt act which indicated the 
change was in the election of a captain for the 
track team for the fourth form. Philip was not 
even nominated for the position. Bacon received 
a few scattering votes, but there was no indecision 
in the form as a whole. Tait was elected. 

The upper school did not send Philip to Cov- 
entry. Far from it. In fact, in their inner con- 
sciousness there was a well defined feeling that 
perhaps the punishment they had meted out had 
been unnecessarily severe, and Conway and some 
of the others went out of their way to make it 
evident to Philip that having suffered the punish- 
ment, the slate was clean, and if he wished it, he 
could be put back upon his old footing. In 
Philip's sensitive state, however, the very effort 
which the older boys made was a constant re- 
minder to him of that day by the school wall, 
and he found it beyond him to respond at all gra- 
ciously to the advances of those who had turned 
his world upside down. Among his friends, Rod- 
283 


PHILIP KENT 


ney was the only one who kept his intimacy. 
Bacon would have been glad to have the two 
rooms resume the old footing, and Philip would 
have perhaps welcomed his company. 

With Tait, however, it was different. However 
unjustly, Philip could not help feeling that Tait 
was rising on his shoulders, and was doing it pur- 
posely. This to a certain extent reopened the 
old feud which, smouldering for an interval, only 
needed an occasion of this kind to bring it once 
more into a blaze. This condition of affairs put 
Bacon in a difficult position. He was anxious to 
help Philip in any way he could, but did not feel 
it right to sacrifice Tait entirely for him, and Tait 
had no intention of acting as a nurse to Philip’s 
black humors. 

“ It’s all very well for you, Baconfat,” he said on 
one occasion when the latter remonstrated with 
him. “ Go and sit with Lippy and hold his hand 
all you want, but he’s not the most entertaining 
individual these days and I see no particular rea- 
son why I should sacrifice myself for him. He’s 
not over cordial when I do drop in.” 

As a matter of fact, Tait was right. Philip was 
very much in the condition of a sick dog who 
could not stand any one around him who was not 
sympathetic. He preferred to be alone, and the 
only price of admission to his society was sym- 
284 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


pathy, a sympathy which was silent and de- 
manded nothing in return. Consequently, long 
walks became the order of the day for him and his 
roommate. Philip never said anything, but in 
their room after dinner he would silently reach for 
his cap, and Rodney, like a faithful terrier, would 
follow along at his heels with or without an invita- 
tion. As a rule there was no conversation between 
them. Across the fields, along the roads, many 
miles were put behind them, and the only encour- 
agement that Rodney would receive was perhaps 
in a fancied lightening of the shadows which had 
taken up a permanent abiding place on Philip’s 
forehead. 

“ Why do you tag after me every day this 
way ? ” he asked once. 

“ Don’t you like to have me?” parried Rodney. 

“ Why, yes, Rod, I do. You’re quite a comfort 
to me sometimes.” 

“ That’s the answer,” said Rodney briefly, and 
trudged on. 

The indoor track meet, scheduled for the end of 
March, loomed in the near future, and Tait was 
doing all he could to train the form to that point 
where they could give a good account of them- 
selves, and he rebelled at Philip’s backsliding, as 
he called it, and particularly in his taking The 
Minute also away from practice. 

285 


PHILIP KENT 


“ It’s not very sporty of you,” he ventured one 
afternoon as he passed Philip in the hall as the 
latter was about starting out for one of his walks. 
“ You know we need every point we can get, and 
here you are, whom the form counts on, taking no 
interest whatever. I’ll wager you haven’t been in 
the gymnasium for a week. Come on out, won’t 
you? You have a good chance in the high jump, 
and you might place in the shot put.” 

Philip shook his head. “ No, I’m all out of 
condition, and anyway I haven’t a chance. It’s 
all right for you to talk who are still in the junior 
class, but what chance have I against Conway and 
Doane in the senior events ? ” 

“ You might come out and try, anyway.” 

“ Well,” said Philip grudgingly, “ if you really 
think that I could be of some use, I’ll take a turn 
at it some of these days. There’s lots of time 
yet.” 

“ Only two weeks,” retorted Tait. “ And any- 
way, whether you come out or not, I wish you 
wouldn’t keep The Minute from practicing. He’s 
good for a sure ten points.” 

“ I’m not keeping him,” growled Philip. “ Do 
you think I have a string on him ? ” 

“ Well, you have a lot of influence with him, 
anyway. I wish you would ask him to practice.” 

“ Influence ! ” Philip’s tone was sarcastic. “ A 
286 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

fine lot of influence I have these days. You have 
corralled all there is of that commodity lying 
around loose,” and Philip walked off. 

Nevertheless the appeal meant something to 
him in a sense that it helped to restore a little of 
his self-respect, and the next day when Rodney 
prepared to follow him, he sternly forbade it. 

“ No,” he said ; “ not to-day. By special re- 
quest of Captain Tait you’re to appear in the gym- 
nasium and practice for the sports.” 

The Minute looked nonplused. “ What does all 
this mean ? ” he asked. 

“ Oh, the captain ” — and Philip’s tone was sar- 
castic, “ seems to want you on his team, and he 
was condescending enough to say that I had some 
influence over you.” 

“ Rubbish ! ” said The Minute. 

Philip shook his head. “ No,” he said sternly ; 
“ I mean it. Tait’s right. You owe it to the form 
to do the best you can, so after this quit tagging 
after me.” 

The Minute seemed irresolute. “ That’s a bore,” 
he said. “ If I do it, will you ? ” 

“ Oh, I may,” Philip temporized. 

“ Well,” said The Minute stoutly, “ if I owe it 
to the form, so do you. It’s both or nothing.” 

Philip heaved a mock sigh. “ I thought Tait 
was wrong — a fine lot of influence I have when 
287 


PHILIP KENT 

even you disobey me. All right,” he said ; “ I’ll 
practice.” 

Philip found it difficult to resume the rut of his 
old habits, but true to his promise he did practice 
several times a week. At first he found it impos- 
sible to be on easy terms with the various boys 
with whom he was thrown into intimate contact 
on the gymnasium floor. He saw slights when 
none were intended. The most innocent, thought- 
less action of the younger boys which in any way 
impeded or obstructed him in what he was doing, 
which in the crowded condition of the gymnasium 
was naturally frequent, was construed by him as a 
deliberate giving of notice that he need no longer 
be considered. With the older boys it resulted in 
his going further into his shell. The irritability 
which he was thus forced to conceal, needing some 
outlet, was naturally vented upon the lower form. 
He became short of temper and quick of tongue, 
with a hand ready to cuff any unfortunate who 
displeased him. 

“ Watch where you’re going, can’t you ? ” he 
growled, as Jones of the first, running heedlessly 
down the winding stairs leading to the basement of 
the gymnasium, collided with him, and, being some- 
what frightened, was a little slow in apologizing. 

“ Don’t get the idea into your head that you 
can be fresh with me just because of what has 
288 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


happened,” Philip said, and pinched the other’s 
ears between strong fingers. 

The Minute watched this growing tendency 
with alarm. He saw that, persisted in, it could 
lead to nothing but the absolute discredit of 
Philip’s position and the irretrievable loss of the 
form’s leadership. The older boy who makes the 
life of a youngster unhappy is never forgiven, at 
school or afterward. 

One night The Minute, taking his courage into 
both hands, remonstrated with him. “ Do you 
know you’re getting to be an awful brute, Philip ? ” 
he announced bluntly. 

Philip, amazed, looked up and raised his eye- 
brows. “ Et tu, Brute ! ” 

The Minute flushed, but persisted. “ Yes, oh 
noble Caesar, me too ! So long as I see you 
butchering your career with every day that passes, 
I have no compunction about sticking a knife into 
you myself.” 

“ Just listen to him,” mocked Philip. “ So I’ve 
been butchering myself, have I? In what way, 
pray ? ” 

“ Why, by being so darn disagreeable to the 
kids. There’s not one of them now who doesn’t 
instinctively throw up an arm for protection as he 
passes you, or who doesn’t dodge around another 
corridor if he sees you first.” 

289 


PHILIP KENT 


“ Why, what nonsense ! ” exclaimed Philip. “ I 
never lay a finger on them.” 

“ Oh, I don’t mean that you murder them, but 
you’ve gotten into the habit of boxing their ears, 
of digging them in the ribs, and even twisting 
their arms whenever anything happens that irri- 
tates you.” 

“ Oh, nonsense,” again said Philip. “ You’re 
exaggerating ; and anyway, you don’t expect me 
to stand for bare impertinence.” 

“ Impertinence ! ” retorted Rodney scornfully. 
“ You’ve gone dotty on that subject. If a kid 
looks at you twice, or crosses in front of you so as 
to make you change your step, you call it imper- 
tinence.” 

“ Oh, dry up,” said Philip irritably. “ I didn’t 
expect this from you.” 

“ Goodness knows I don’t want to have to talk 
this way,” said Rodney, “ but it honestly makes 
me tired, Philip. Would you really like to know 
what I think on the subject?” 

Philip looked amusedly at his companion’s tense 
and rather white face. “ Go ahead, bantam,” he 
said. “ Catalogue all my sins.” 

“ Well,” said Rodney, drawing a long breath, 
“ I will. In the first place, you were beginning to 
think pretty well of yourself and so you go and 
mark up the sixth’s sign just because you do feel 
290 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


cocky. The sixth punishes you for it — and they 
were dead right in punishing you, too, because it 
was an awfully fresh thing to do. They’d half 
murdered a second former, and you know it, and 
now, just because you think your dignity has 
been outraged, you’re taking it out on the kids on 
every occasion. It seems to me about time for 
you to brace up.” 

Philip chose to treat this tirade in a mocking 
spirit. “ You little spitfire,” he said admiringly. 
“ Is this the sort of thoughts you’ve been having 
on those long walks of ours? ” 

“ No, Phil, and you know it. Just lately you 
have gotten in this cantankerous humor, and 
you’re doing yourself a lot of harm by it, and if 
this talk will only wake you up I’ll be glad I 
spoke. 

“ And,” he added, as with an afterthought, de- 
fiantly, “ I’m not sorry, anyway.” 

But Philip was not to be convinced. “ Non- 
sense,” he said ; “ you’ve imagined all this. Why, 
the surest way to keep those kids in order and 
make them respect you is to keep them toeing a 
chalk line. They’re a very fresh bunch this year. 
If I didn’t keep them in their places they’d ride 
all over me.” 

“ Well,” said The Minute sadly, “ if you can’t 
see it I suppose you can’t. I’ve said all I’m 
291 


PHILIP KENT 

going to say. You can go your own gait after 
this.” 

Philip sobered. “I’m afraid I’ll have to, 
Rodney,” he said, “ and I don’t see yet just where 
it will lead. But I disagree with you entirely on 
the question of discipline.” 

Shortly after this conversation Philip evolved a 
new mode of hazing which he found most amus- 
ing. It came about in this way : One afternoon, 
feeling disinclined for very hard work in the 
gymnasium, he had gone out early, practiced the 
various events in which he was entered in a some- 
what perfunctory manner, and then while the 
main body of boys were making the rafters re- 
sound over his head with the thud of the falling 
shot or the crash of a misjudged vaulting pole, 
stripped and took his shower. He was dressing 
slowly in a depressed frame of mind when half a 
dozen youngsters burst into the locker room in a 
race to see who should get the first bath. Philip, 
where he sat half concealed by a tier of lockers 
which projected into the room, scowled at the 
sudden outburst of noise, which disturbed his 
thoughts. 

“ Keep quiet in there,” he called. 

The sound of his voice brought silence and a 
hurried whispering, and then the splash of water 
and subdued giggling indicated that the race had 
292 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

been lost and won. The patter of bare feet 
sounded on the cement floor, followed by the un- 
mistakable sounds of the impact of a wet towel 
against the wall. 

“ Missed me,” chanted a youthful voice in glee, 
followed by a further sound of scampering and 
laughter. 

“ Ouch ! ” “ Got you that time 1 ” “ Gee, that 

stung ! ” said some one. “ Look out for yourself,” 
and judging from the splashing the towel fight 
waxed fast and furious. 

Philip muttered angrily to himself, and then 
strode around the corner. “ Didn’t I tell you to 
cut that out?” he called. His sudden appearance 
was unfortunate for all concerned. A towel 
whizzed by his head, narrowly missing him, but 
sprinkling him freely with water in its passage. 
Another one, fired simultaneously, hit him with a 
thud on the leg. An awed silence followed these 
misdirected missiles. 

“Who did that?” shouted Philip, furiously 
angry. 

Two woebegone faces peeped around the door, 
followed by their owners’ very wet bodies. “ I’m 
awfully sorry,” said the two culprits in unison. 

“ What do you mean by making a mess like 
this down here? Don’t you know it’s against the 
rules ? ” 


293 


PHILIP KENT 


“ Oh, we weren’t doing any harm, Kent,” re- 
monstrated the braver of the two boys, looking up 
at him. 

“ Well, I told you to cut it out. Who else is 
down here? ” 

Three more naked little figures appeared upon 
the scene, looking very much scared. Philip sur- 
veyed them sternly. 

“Well,” he said, “I’ll just teach you to obey 
orders. Come here.” 

He led them across the hall to tha fives’ court, 
taking some old tennis balls from his locker as he 
passed. The boys looked at these preparations 
with apprehension. 

“ Line up here,” Philip said as they passed 
through the doorway, and tossed an old cap into 
the furthest corner of the court. “ Now,” he said, 
“ when I give the word I want to see which of you 
can get that cap. Be quick about it, because I’m 
going to hurry you up with these balls. Are you 
ready? Go!” 

With one accord the boys made a dash for the 
cap, and penned in the angle of the wall, scrambled 
wildly for it. Philip meanwhile opened up with 
the tennis balls. Smack ! Smack ! He had time 
to make two solid hits which left their mark be- 
hind them before the boys raced back. Philip 
took the cap from the lucky one. “ That’s all for 
294 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

you,” he said ; “ go back and dress. Now you 
others,” he resumed, tossing the cap once more in 
the corner, “ will make a try for it again.” 

This time, owing to their greater eagerness, coup* 
led with a desire to shield their more vulnerable 
parts, they gave Philip a longer time for marksman- 
ship — this time each boy bore evidence of the accu- 
racy of his aim. Again one was eliminated from 
the tests. Thus Philip indulged himself until the 
cap had been retrieved for the last time ; then herd- 
ing the five boys together, he laid down the law. 

“ That will teach you,” he said, “ not to make a 
bear garden of the dressing-room, or to plaster 
your superiors with wet towels. That's the dose 
you'll get every time I catch you at it.” 

As the excitement of the occurrence died away, 
Philip felt some pangs of remorse for his action, 
but driven on as he was by something within him 
and beyond his control, the remorse lasted only 
until his next opportunity for something of the 
same sort. Since Rodney's outburst nothing further 
on the subject had passed between the two friends, 
and the resulting coolness literally left Philip 
without any one to whom he could unburden him- 
self. 

So far he had steadfastly refused to examine 
himself from the view-point of an outsider. It was 
as though he had shut up the conscience which is 
295 


PHILIP KENT 


usually so prompt to tell every boy when he has 
been guilty of a mean action. He refused to think, 
and pursued his course stubbornly, pretending to 
himself that he was regaining his power over the 
lower school. 

“ I’ll show them,” he said, “ that my spirit isn’t 
cowed. If I make a good showing in the sports 
they’ll come flocking back to me and throw Tait 
into the discard.” 

Conway began to take notice of the boy’s change 
in character. “ I hope we didn't do him perma- 
nent harm by our course of treatment,” he said one 
evening in the sixth form room. “ Kent used to 
be a mighty nice kid, and now he’s nothing but a 
sullen brute.” 

“ Don’t worry,” said Ellis; “ something will 
happen one of these days to make him see himself 
from the same angle of view as we see him, and 
he’ll brace up.” 

Ellis’ prophecy was nearer fulfilment than he or 
any of the others expected. Kent had gone up to 
Dormitory B to see Mr. Richardson about an alge- 
bra lesson for the next day. Not finding the mas- 
ter, he was about to retreat when through the door 
leading to the master’s room into the dormitory 
he heard voices, and instinctively paused. Two 
second formers were holding an animated conver- 
sation. 


296 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


He heard Jack Tait’s name mentioned, and then 
“ Kent?” 

A scornful laugh rang out. “ He's nothing but 
a bully. Why, they say he’s even worse than the 
Knuckle Spreader.” 


297 


CHAPTER XIX 


A DIFFERENT BOY 

“ As bad as the Knuckle Spreader ! ” 

Philip’s first impulse, as he heard himself thus 
described, was to rush into the dormitory and 
visit severe punishment upon his maligner. A 
flush of rage swept over him. Then something in 
the tone of the youthful voices, a tone which for- 
bade any suspicion of malice and indicated simply 
a conviction, stopped him. It is often said that 
through the mind of a drowning man flashes the 
incidents of his life. Whether or not this is true, 
in Philip’s case there could be no doubt of it, so 
far as the actions of his last year were concerned. 

For the first time in many a month, not only 
were his actions brought wholly before him, but 
he saw clearly the reasons for those actions, the 
source from which they sprang, and in seeing, a 
revulsion of feeling that he, Philip Kent, could 
have descended to such depths of conduct, swept 
over him. He halted in his tracks, and then stole 
silently out of the master’s room. 

Was it true? Was he indeed to be c6mpared to 
the Knuckle Spreader — that name which was held 
298 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


up to new boys as the epitome of all that a bully 
could be ? Had he, who, in starting his school 
career, was actuated by the highest and cleanest 
motives, ready to risk his standing with his school- 
mates in order to live up to the standard of those 
things in which he believed, become a boy who in 
practice was the antithesis of the other? His 
mind refused to believe it, and yet, as he stumped 
down the corridor, his chin on his chest and 
hands thrust deep in his pockets, something 
within him warned him that the verdict he had 
overheard in the dormitory was correct. 

For the first time he saw himself as the rest of 
the school must have been seeing him for many 
months ; a boy who by reason of his size and posi- 
tion took delight in using his strength unfairly. 
It was a stubborn, pride-encrusted boy who had 
gone into Mr. Richardson’s room ; a boy whose 
better self was buried deeply under the foul and 
clinging vines which were battening on all that 
was weak in him ; a boy who was marked by all 
the averages of life to continue in the way he had 
begun until he became a pariah among his fellows. 

Only a rare chance could have brought him the 
truth. The chance remark somehow had pierced 
through the brambles to reach the better soil, and 
it indicated unusual fertility in Philip’s character 
that the seed once planted, it should grow, for it 
299 


PHILIP KENT 


was indeed a different boy who, with tight lips, 
strolled down the corridor. 

It was not an easy fight he had before him. 
The foul vines of habit were not easy to shake off, 
and even while one side of his brain was cleaning 
house ; was almost reveling in each new memory 
of evil done, to be now rectified, the other side 
of him refused to see the truth, and mocked the 
idea that he should change his course. It was an 
unusually silent Philip who joined his roommate 
that evening. He sat at his desk hunched over a 
book trying to prepare his lessons for the next 
day, but his powers of concentration had vanished 
and his mind insisted upon reverting to the 
thought which was uppermost. Rodney, from 
his chair, keen to catch impressions where his 
friend was concerned, sensed that something had 
happened, but since Philip's last outburst Rodney 
was more slow to intrude on the other's silence. 
Suddenly Philip swung around in his chair. 

“ Do you think I am as bad as the Knuckle 
Spreader ? " he blurted out. 

Rodney, taken aback at the abruptness of the 
question, was at a loss to answer. “ Why, what 
do you mean ? " he temporized. 

“ Do you think I'm as bad as the Knuckle 
Spreader?" Philip's first asking of the question 
had been in the nature of a challenge ; his second 
300 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


in the nature of a plea. Rodney noticed the 
change. 

“ Why, no, Phil,” he said. “ Not by any means. 
What makes you ask ? ” 

“Do you mean that?” insisted Philip, ignoring 
the other’s question. 

“ Why, yes I do,” repeated Rodney earnestly. 
“ I don’t mean,” he corrected truthfully, “ that 
sometimes you haven’t been unnecessarily brutal, 
because I think you have, and that’s what I 
haven’t been able to understand about you. The 
Knuckle Spreader was a bully and a brute because 
he wanted to be ; because he liked it ; but you’re 
not like that. You’re not a bit of a brute ordi- 
narily. It’s only when sometimes you get 
grouchy that I could criticize you. But, Phil,” 
and Rodney looked sadly at his fried, “you’ve 
been grouchy an awful lot these last months ! ” 

Philip sat moodily looking at the floor. “ I 
know it, Rodney,” he said miserably. “ I don’t 
know what’s been the matter with me. I haven’t 
felt like myself for two years, but I haven’t been 
able to stop it ; but now I see. Do you think I 
could ever work back again, Rodney, so that the 
fellows will like me ? ” 

“ Sure you can,” said Rodney heartily. “ Every- 
body likes you when you act like yourself. What 
happened,” he went on, his curiosity getting the 
301 


PHILIP KENT 


better of him — “ what happened this afternoon to 
wake you up?” Philip told him. “ Hm!” said 
Rodney indignantly, instinctively springing to the 
defense of his friend ; “ I like their nerve ! ” — then, 
more mildly : “ Still,” he said, “ I'll forgive them 
if it’s going to bring you back.” 

Philip woke up the next day feeling strangely 
cheerful. For some moments he was puzzled to 
account for the change, for usually he opened his 
eyes on a world that was drear and gray. Then 
the remembrance of his conversation of the night 
before swept over him and he realized that he 
faced a new future. 

It was not easy to rehabilitate himself. The 
habit of avoiding the other boys had grown upon 
him, and since at table a question rarely received 
more than a surly answer, the others had natu- 
rally become accustomed to leaving him out of the 
conversation, and, as he did not wear his change 
of heart upon his sleeve, the others were at first 
unaware of any difference in him. 

To one who is eager to make up with the world 
after a period of estrangement, and willing to take 
the blame for all that has happened, it is some- 
what chilling to one's good resolves to find the 
world totally blind to one's approaches. This 
hurt, and on more than one occasion had a tend- 
ency to set Philip on the downward track again. 

302 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


But the thing that touched his consciousness the 
closest was the attitude of the younger boys. The 
smiles, willing service and playful impertinence 
which had formerly marked his intercourse with 
the lower forms, were missing. He found now that 
when, in a kindly spirit, he spoke to them, he was 
answered with chilling politeness, and his errands 
done with an alacrity which spoke of fear, not of 
favor. A hand carelessly laid on the shoulder of 
a youngster was the signal for that youngster to 
flinch, and it took but a few days for Philip to 
learn to avoid such actions. 

Of course, he was not reconstructed over night. 
With the best of resolutions, with the firmest in- 
tentions to avoid the slightest appearance of haz- 
ing, or the use of an excess of authority, he was at 
times guilty of backsliding, but every time when 
justly and unduly provoked he allowed himself to 
speak severely, he found that the few inches of 
progress he had made would invariably be swept 
away. Determined, however, to do everything in 
his power to regain his position, one of his first 
acts was to report for daily practice in the gym- 
nasium. 

“ Hello ! Look who's here ! ” said Tait on his 
first appearance in the dressing-room. “ Not by 
any chance going to practice, are you ? I thought 
you had deserted the form for keeps." 

303 


PHILIP KENT 


Philip flushed at the other’s tone, a hot reply on 
his lips. With an effort he controlled his anger. 
“ Well,” he said, turning to his locker and taking 
out his dusty clothes, “ if you think I can make 
good in any event, put me in. I’m going to 
practice.” 

“ Good for you, Philip,” said Bacon cheerily 
from across the room. “ We need you badly. 
There’s not much time left, though ; you’ll have 
to work hard.” 

A boy of Philip’s age, however, does not get out 
of condition easily, and in a few days he was doing 
as well as in the earlier days of practice. Rodney 
spread the news among his more intimate friends 
that Philip had really turned over a new leaf, so 
that many boys finally went out of their way to 
speak to him. But at best it was a trying time. 
Sensitive before when he thought he was the in- 
jured one, he was doubly sensitive now when he 
realized right was not on his side, and where be- 
fore he would not have been unwilling to com- 
mand sympathy, it humiliated him now that he 
felt it was given in charity. 

The upper school, since the incident of the de- 
faced sign, had practically ignored him. This 
was especially true of the sixth. There were a 
few spirits, however, in the fifth who felt that 
though the indignity had been offered directly to 

304 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


the other form, that their honor had been some- 
what assailed as members of the upper school, and 
decided that Philip should be made to stand a 
little hazing himself. In consequence, one even- 
ing when Philip, seated at his desk, was working 
some algebra problems preparatory to retiring, 
his door suddenly opened and a wet towel scat- 
tered his papers to the wind, upset his ink-stand, 
and generally reduced the table to a wreck. 

He sprang to his feet, dashed out of the door, 
and in the gloom made out several retreating 
figures. Pursuit proved of no avail. He heard 
them thumping down the staircase three steps at 
a time, but that was all. In a rage he returned 
to his room. The next night the same pair teased 
him again. This time he discovered their identity 
— Bronson and Carter of the fifth. He chased 
them into their corridor to the door of their room, 
which was slammed and locked in his face, and 
then two mocking faces peered at him through 
the transom. 

“ You’ll get apoplexy if you allow yourself to 
get so angry,” jeered Carter. 

“ I’d like to know, anyway,” demanded Bron- 
son, “ what you’re doing on this floor. Don’t you 
know you’ll get the deuce if Mr. Walton catches 
you ? ” 

Balked of his prey, and realizing his danger, 

305 


PHILIP KENT 


Philip returned sullenly to his room, determined 
to be on the watch the next night. 

His roommate protested. “ You’re foolish, 
Phil,” he said, “ to chase them that way. You 
can’t accomplish anything even if you catch them, 
and all they’re after is to have you chase them. 
They enjoy it.” 

- “ I’ll get them next time,” said Philip, deaf to 
Rodney’s advice ; and the succeeding night waited 
behind his door. After a long vigil, which time 
had much better been spent on his lessons, he was 
rewarded by the sound of footsteps coming down 
the hall. His door opened, and he sprang. The 
enemy, however, was also possessed of strategy. 
The bearer of the hand which turned the knob 
was already down the hall, and a wet towel struck 
Philip fairly in the face, thrown by one who was 
waiting for just such a chance. The shock of the 
impact gave the thrower ample time to make good 
his escape, and Philip once more was forced to re- 
turn empty-handed. 

“Can’t you see,” said Rodney impatiently, 
“that they’re just playing with you? Why do 
the very thing every night that they want and 
expect you to do ? ” 

“ Well,” said Philip sullenly, “ how would you 
handle the situation ? ” 

“ Meet them with their own weapons,” retorted 
306 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


the other. “ Have a basin and a wet towel handy 
yourself, and instead of chasing them, keep out of 
sight. Make them show themselves in the door- 
way, and then fire.” 

Rodney didn’t wait to see whether Philip in- 
tended to take his advice, but without further 
words he prepared the ammunition. 

“ I’m going to join you in this,” said Rodney 
gleefully. “ We have a perfect right to defend 
our room. They can’t call it fresh.” 

Rodney’s plan worked* like a charm. As the 
hour of their nightly visitation approached, they 
concealed themselves one on each side of the room 
behind the curtains which guarded their clothes 
racks, each with two large and well-soaked towels 
in hand. 

“ Here they come,” said Rodney excitedly. The 
door swung open. For a moment no one could be 
seen. 

Then a cautious head looked in. 

“ He’s not here.” 

“ Not there ? ” said another voice, and a second 
head appeared ; then, after a careful scrutiny, the 
doorway framed two figures. 

“ Now,” said Rodney excitedly. Two towels 
sped true to the mark, much to the surprise of the 
intruders. 

One wet towel was thrown in return, but as 

307 


PHILIP KENT 


Rodney and Philip let fly their second round, the 
fifth formers ducked and fled to safety, followed 
by the gleeful yell of the besieged. 

“ There,” said Rodney in triumph, as he re- 
trieved the late ammunition ; “ that’s more fun 
than chasing them down the hall, isn’t it?” 

“ You bet it is,” said Philip. “ We caught them 
fair, didn’t we?” 

“ Yes,” said Rodney, “ and we won’t hear a 
thing more about it. I don’t believe they’ll storm 
this fort any more.” 

Rodney was right ; they didn’t. In addition, 
thanks to Rodney’s sensible way of handling the 
situation, Bronson and Carter met Philip the next 
day and grinned at him. 

“ You certainly gave us a warm reception last 
night,” they said. “ We didn’t know we were 
going to run into any hot little hornet’s nest like 
that.” 

Philip glowed. It was the first indication of 
being treated on an equal footing that he had 
received for many weeks. 

“It was Rod’s idea,” he acknowledged. “I 
guess I should have been chasing my fool feet off 
still if it hadn’t been for him. He’s the strategist 
of our diggings.” 

Day by day as the practice in the gymnasium 
threw him by force into the society of the other 
308 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

boys, the wall which had grown up began to dis- 
solve. 

You can’t jump over the same bar a dozen times 
a day with the same individual, or take turn and 
turn about in putting the same shot and keep 
constantly on your dignity, and Philip found 
himself speaking less and less with premedita- 
tion and a careful weighing of the possibility of a 
rebuff. 

The day for the sports drew near. It was a rare 
thing for any form other than the sixth to win 
the most points. The older boys were sure to 
triumph in all the senior events, and nearly 
always the form boasted one or two members who 
could weigh in for the junior or featherweight 
contests. 

This gave the sixth an undue advantage, 
which had often been protested against by the 
younger boys. But tradition is a hard nut to 
crack, and as now and then a brilliant performer 
in the fourth or fifth form would actually swing 
victory to his form, the cumulative effect of succes- 
sive victory was broken and the system remained 
unchanged. This year in particular there prom- 
ised to be a close contest between the two upper 
forms. Philip’s form had a chance, but was gener- 
ally conceded no better than third place. A lot 
depended on The Minute. 

309 


PHILIP KENT 


“ You must get down,” commanded Tait one 
afternoon after practice, when a visit to the scales 
disclosed the fact that The Minute weighed one 
hundred and fifteen pounds. “ If you don’t com- 
pete in the featherweight class we’ll be nowhere. 
I expect at least fifteen points from you, and don’t 
forget it.” 

“ I don’t see how I’m going to do it,” bewailed 
The Minute. “ I’ve been training faithfully. I’m 
nothing but skin and bone now. Just look at 
me,” and he puffed out his chest. 

True enough, it seemed that every bone in his 
body could be counted. 

“ You are pretty thin, that’s a fact,” agreed his 
leader, “ but I can’t help it. You must sweat off 
two more pounds of beef between now and Friday 
morning.” 

“ Well, if I have to I have to, I suppose,” said 
The Minute resignedly, and with a groan he re- 
sumed his heavy sweater. “ I’ll go up now and 
trot round the gym.” 

In half an hour he came back ; stripped, rubbed 
himself down, and anxiously mounted the scales 
once more. 

“ Only a quarter of a pound,” he exclaimed. 
“ Let me see — this is Tuesday — at that rate I’ll 
never do it. I suppose I’ll have to stop eating 
altogether.” 

310 





“i EXPECT at least fifteen points from you” 





















































































IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


On Thursday he complained to Tait. “ What 
I’m afraid of,” he said, “ is that I'll be so weak 
to-morrow that I won’t be able to do anything. 
What’s the use of killing myself if it’s not going 
to help us ? ” 

“ Well, there’s one thing in your favor,” said 
Tait consolingly ; “ they weigh in before lunch, 
you know, so you can eat all you want to then. 
That ought to be some help.” 

“ I don’t see why you put all this labor on me,” 
remonstrated The Minute. “ There’s Baconfat — if 
you took fifteen pounds off him he’d make the 
junior class, and even then if you put him in the 
wrestling he’d have fat enough left to smother any 
boy who had the courage to go to the mat with 
him, while as it is, he’s useless.” 

“ None of that,” said Bacon, who had overheard 
this remark. “ I call that treachery, besides being 
very impertinent. This isn’t fat,” and Bacon 
patted his stomach fondly ; “ it’s muscle. And 
anyway, they tell me it is very injurious to one’s 
health to reduce suddenly. It doesn’t make any 
difference to you skinny people.” 

“ Oh, I see,” said The Minute gravely. “ If 
you take it off too fast, the skin hasn’t time 
to shrink, and it would hang in bags all over 
you.” 

“ That’s it,” agreed Tait, enthralled with the 
3ii 


PHILIP KENT 


idea. “ Baconfat would have something like a 
kangaroo's pouch, wouldn't he ? " 

Bacon drew himself up with dignity. “You 
fellows make me tired," and departed, followed 
with shrieks of laughter from his companions. 


312 


CHAPTER XX 


“ ALL RIGHT, OLD MAN ” 

It was an anxious crowd who stood around the 
scales on Friday morning to watch The Minute 
weigh in. Perry had been appointed judge of the 
scales, and from a list held in his hands called out 
the names of the contestants in the junior and 
featherweight events. The bar was balanced to 
the ounce. Many boys, secure in the knowledge 
that they were well within the limit, disdained to 
do more than take off their coats ; others stripped 
to their underclothing, but The Minute when he 
appeared was guiltless of covering. 

“ Gee,” said Bacon as he looked at him ; “ Tait 
certainly has hounded you.” 

“ Oh, no,” said Tait as he looked his protege 
over critically ; “ I haven’t been hard on him at 
all. Why, if necessary, I intend to make him 
shave his head — that ought to take off an ounce 
or two.” 

A shout of laughter went up at the thought. 
“ Let’s hope it isn’t necessary,” said Perry ; “ you 
ought to leave him something.” 

Gingerly, in his bare feet, The Minute stepped 
3i3 


PHILIP KENT 


on the scales. Coached by Tait, he filled his 
lungs with air. Perry bent over the bar. It 
quivered ; threatened to rise ; then settled back 
into place. 

“All right,” said Perry. “Off with you and 
get some food inside of you.” 

“ Good work,” said Bacon ; “ I never thought 
you’d do it.” 

“ Tell you what, I’m some trainer,” said Tait, 
puffing out his chest proudly. “ To tell you the 
truth, I don’t know where he took off that last 
half pound.” 

With the news that The Minute had qualified, 
the fourth form stock rose, and interest in the 
afternoon’s events increased. At dinner The Min- 
ute was fairly coddled. The best piece of meat, 
the largest potato — anything to tempt his appetite 
— was forced upon him, until he protested. 

“ I don’t want any more,” he said for the third 
time. “I’m beginning to feel water-logged al- 
ready. I haven’t had a square meal like this in 
a week, and if I eat another mouthful I won’t be 
able to jump two feet.” 

His prophecy, however, was not justified, and 
the denial he had practiced met with its reward 
when the high jump took place. At four feet, 
most of the contestants failed. At four feet two, 
he and one other still survived. 

3i4 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


11 Can you go any higher ?” asked Tait anx- 
iously, as the judges put the bar up another notch. 

“ Oh, I think so.” 

“ Good boy. Well, stand here and I’ll rub 
your legs for you.” 

Tait massaged and slapped till the flesh grew 
pink under his handling. “ How’s that? ” 

“ Fine,” said The Minute. 

His opponent jumped and failed. The Minute 
cleared it easily. Again the other failed. 

“ You’ve got him,” said Philip eagerly. 

“Perhaps,” returned The Minute doubtfully; 
“ but he has gone higher in practice.” 

The third attempt succeeded — the bar quivered 
but stayed on its supports. Much excited, the 
second form thronged about its champion. The 
Minute, seated on a wrestling mat, looked su- 
premely confident. 

“ I’ll get him,” he said. Both cleared four feet 
four. Again the bar was put up. Each jumped 
and failed. Then, with a supreme effort, The 
Minute, after his opponent had failed for the sec- 
ond time, cleared the bar with inches to spare. 
The second former made a great attempt, but he 
had reached his limit; victory lay with Rodney. 

“ Bully for you,” exclaimed Philip, throwing a 
sweater around The Minute’s shoulders. “ Five 
points! That’ll help, won’t it, Jack?” 

3i5 


PHILIP KENT 


11 You bet it will,” agreed Tait enthusiastically. 
“ No one counted on our getting five points in this 
event. It may be just enough to enable us to nose 
out the leaders.” 

“ How do the points stand now ? ” asked Bacon 
inquiringly. 

“ Let me see,” said Tait. “ I got second in the 
broad jump — that’s three points; Allen first in 
the junior wrestling; and these five points from 
The Minute — thirteen points. The sixth has 
seventeen, and the fifth just noses us out with 
fourteen. It’s a tight race so far. We’ll need 
every point we can get, and more too. Don’t for- 
get, Phil, that I’m counting on you for a place in 
the shot put.” 

Philip groaned. " Not much chance, I’m 
afraid,” he said. “ The others outweigh me too 
much ; but still, I may just scrape a fourth place.” 

u Well,” answered Tait grudgingly, “ one point 
will be better than nothing, but I counted on you 
for at least a third, if not a second place.” 

The afternoon with its triumphs and failures 
wore away. The pole vault as usual took an 
interminable length of time to decide, and from 
the length of run the contestants required, pre- 
vented any other event taking place at the same 
time. Potter, for the sixth form, won this event 
easily, but there was a keen contest for the re- 
316 


JN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


maining places, and much to his form’s delight, 
Tait, with a herculean effort, swung himself into 
third place and three points. First one form, 
then the other, drew into the lead, as the event in 
which its members were peculiarly proficient were 
reached. Tait had performed brilliantly. His 
weight enabled him to take part in junior events, 
which counted heavily in his favor, and from the 
jump to the high kick there was hardly one con- 
test in which he did not score. In this regard he 
left Philip far behind him. The latter’s best events 
were in the runs, and the indoor sports gave him 
no opportunity to show his proficiency. Tait, 
heart and soul in the business of driving his form 
to victory, hurried from boy to boy, urging on 
some, encouraging others, and endeavoring to 
instill fighting qualities into those who lacked 
them. 

“ We’re holding our own,” he exclaimed, coming 
up eager and breathless to where Bacon and The 
Minute were jotting down the latest returns. “ If 
I can win the junior fence vault and Philip gets 
third in the shot, we stand an awfully good chance 
of winning, and at all events we shall beat the 
fifth.” 

“ That’s fine,” exclaimed Rodney. “ Leading 
the fifth will be enough honor for me, even if we 
don’t defeat the sixth.” 

3i7 


PHILIP KENT 


“ How do }^ou make that out? ” commented Ba- 
con, who during this conversation had been figur- 
ing on his score card. “ We need a lot more than 
eight points.” 

“ Of course we do,” retorted Tait impatiently, 
“ but I’m figuring on at least ten other points in 
the boxing and tumbling. Everybody concedes 
those to us. I was only considering the points that 
were doubtful.” 

“ I see,” said Bacon ; “ but winning this cham- 
pionship seems to depend on a lot of ifs.” 

When the junior fence vault was called, the ifs 
had been largely resolved according to Tait’s 
prophecy. The three forms were neck and neck — 
the sixth with thirty-four points ; the fifth with 
twenty-eight ; the fourth with twenty-nine. Any 
one might win. The horizontal bar was placed at 
the nominal height of four feet. The space be- 
tween it and the floor was walled with boards, so 
that there would be no possibility of a contestant 
taking an unfair advantage in letting his feet 
swing between the uprights. It was a difficult 
event to judge, whoever had it in charge finding 
that it took the closest attention to tell whether an 
errant toe scraped or did not scrape the boards in 
its ascent. 

However, there was no difficulty at four feet — 
every one swung over the bar cleanly. At four 
318 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

feet six, those boys who had entered their names 
simply for the sake of the contest, without having 
any real belief in their ability to win a place, 
ignominiously dropped out. At five feet, the real 
contest began. At this height all the contestants 
found it necessary to abandon the side vault in 
favor of the dip. Tait was the first to try it. A 
heave, and he was on top of the bar, his body sup- 
ported away from it by his elbows, which were 
dug into his abdomen ; then a cautious lowering 
of the head, a twisting of his hands upon the bar 
until his shoulders and the upper part of his body 
were well below the bar on the far side. This 
brought his feet up perpendicularly until he was 
practically upside down ; then a vigorous side 
swing of his legs, and he was safely over. 

“Jack has pretty good form, hasn’t he?” said 
Bacon admiringly. 

“ First class ! ” echoed The Minute. “ If he 
keeps that up he should have a good chance to 
win.” 

Two of the other contestants, however, were not 
far behind their leader in execution, and though 
the others continued to drop out as the height of 
the bar was advanced, Elliot and Stone, of the sec- 
ond and third forms respectively, kept pace with 
Tait, vault for vault. The bar, which at first had 
been elevated six inches at a time, was now moved 
3i9 


PHILIP KENT 


only an inch after each successful vault. Now be- 
gan the judge’s real work. 

“ Foul ! ” he called, as Tait made his first try at 
five feet eight. His ear had caught the telltale 
click of foot against board. Tait immediately 
dropped off the bar. 

“ Did I foul then, Mr. Pat?” he asked, for the 
judge was no other than the history master. 

“ Yes, sorry to say you did,” was the answer. 
“ Your feet swung in as you made your first effort.” 

Elliot was discovered making a preliminary 
jump, and his attempt was ruled out. Stone 
cleared the bar, amid loud cheers from the mem- 
bers of his form who had gathered around the 
event. Tait, with fire in his eye, tucked his run- 
ning trousers well up his thighs, spat on his 
hands, and advanced for his second try. This 
time, bearing his former failure in mind, he suc- 
ceeded. 

“ All right,” called Mr. Patterson. “ Next ! ” 

Elliot, determined not to repeat his former fault, 
centered so much of his attention on this stage of 
his jump that he neglected to keep his hips rigid, 
with the result that not only his feet but even his 
knees crashed against the boards. 

“ Foul ! ” chanted Mr. Patterson. 

“ Rather,” exclaimed Bacon. “ What are you 
trying to do, Elliot ; break it down ? ” 

320 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“ I made a little mistake that time,” said Elliot 
cheerfully, as he advanced for his last try. “ I'll 
make it this time.” 

However, this was not Elliot’s day. Try as he 
could his feet betrayed him, and once more the 
boards registered the telltale click which ruled 
him out. 

“This is going to be a contest, isn’t it?” whis- 
pered Rodney tensely, as Mr. Patterson shoved the 
bar up another notch. “ Jack’s sure of three 
points already, and now with Elliot out of it he 
has a good chance for first.” 

Stone, however, for all that he was only in the 
second form, was a long, lanky, thin individual, 
ideally built for this event. Where most boys of 
his age could not even reach the bar, he could do 
so with a crooked arm, which gave him a tre- 
mendous advantage. 

“All ready, Tait?” called Mr. Patterson. 
“ Your turn.” 

Tait was reaching his limit. Already the bar 
was as high as he had ever successfully vaulted. 
He tried valiantly, but did not even get his 
position on the bar, and dropped back disgust- 
edly. 

“ Too high for me, I’m afraid,” he announced as 
he returned to his friends ; “ but I don’t believe 
Stone can do it, either.” 

321 


PHILIP KENT 


“ Gee whiz ! 77 exclaimed The Minute even as 
Tait spoke. “ That was a vault ! ” 

Tait swung in his tracks just in time to see 
Stone dropping lightly to the ground. 

“ Did he clear it? 77 he asked Rodney excitedly. 

“ Clear it? ” exclaimed The Minute. “He went 
over it by a foot .’ 7 

“ The deuce he did ! He 7 s got me, then . 77 

“ I don’t like to hear Jack say he’s beaten this 
way until he is , 77 criticized The Minute. 

“Oh, he’ll fight , 77 said Bacon. “ Don’t worry.” 

Tait cast a glance over his costume to make sure 
that no end of his jersey or running trousers was 
sticking out. Summoning all his spring, he leapt 
upward. For a moment, his head clawing desper- 
ately in the air, his body hung in doubt. Would 
his feet or his head outweigh the other? Slowly, 
using all his strength of balance, he passed the 
critical stage. The effort to raise his feet, how- 
ever, swung him slightly off his lateral balance. 
This slight defect ruined him. As his feet swung 
across the bar, one knee grazed it slightly. 

“ Foul ! 77 declared Mr. Patterson regretfully. 

Tait, red with his exertions, jumped to his feet. 
“ Oh, I didn’t foul, did I, Mr. Pat ? 77 he exclaimed. 

“ Pm afraid you did, Jack,” said the master. 

“ But how ? 77 retorted Tait wrathfully. “ I’ll 
swear I didn’t hit the board on the way up.” 

322 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“No," agreed Mr. Patterson; “ you didn’t ; but 
you fouled the bar going over.” 

“ Oh, how could I ? I’m sure I didn’t.” 

“ I ruled it the other way, Tait,” said Mr. 
Patterson shortly. “ You fouled.” 

“ Darn it,” said Tait angrily under his breath as 
he turned away. “ I know I didn’t foul. I went 
over that time as clean as a whistle ! ” and he 
stalked back to his friends to express his opinion 
of the judge. They were both sympathetic for his 
failure, but were non-committal on Mr. Patterson’s 
decision. 

“ He could tell better than you could,” said The 
Minute, pacifyingly. “ I shouldn’t doubt his 
judgment.” 

“ Stand up here,” said Bacon, “ and let me rub 
you down. You’ve got to make it this time.” 

“ Oh, I can’t do it now,” grumbled Tait. “ I 
put all I had in me into the last vault. Let Stone 
take the old medal.” 

“ All ready, Tait,” called Mr. Patterson. “ Third 
and last try. We’re waiting for you.” 

“ He’ll be right there,” answered Bacon. “ Just 
wait a minute. Now,” he said, giving Tait’s legs 
a final slap, “ go to it ! ” 

Tait, however, was still angry. He cast a sour 
glance at the judge, walked up to the bar, and 
without any special preparation, made his try. 

323 


PHILIP KENT 

For a moment it seemed as though he would 
succeed ; then at the critical point of balance, his 
muscles or his will seemed to fail him, his body 
crumpled up, and he dropped back. “ No use,” 
he said, “ I can’t do it.” 

In the swarm of boys who crowded around the 
victor, Bacon looked reproachfully at his friend. 
“ You didn’t half try then, Jack.” 

“ I did, too,” denied the other, “ but I told you 
I was all in. You forget that I’ve had a busy 
afternoon,” and swinging his sweater around his 
shoulders he turned away. 

“ It’s too bad,” said Bacon heavily. “ It looks 
now as if it’s all up to Philip if we want to beat 
the fifth. How does it stand ? ” 

“ Thirty-one for us,” answered Rodney ; “ twenty- 
nine still for the fifth, and thirty-two for the sixth.” 

“ Conway and Doane are sure first and second 
places,” commented Bacon. “ If Philip could get 
third we’ll beat the fifth, but Bronson and Rhoades 
have more chance than he has. I’m afraid we’ll 
have to be content with third place in the sports.” 

They discovered Tait talking to Philip. 

“ I’ve got my three points,” the captain was 
saying, “ so now it’s up to you to get third or fourth. 
We must beat out those two fifth formers. Either 
place will win for us, provided the sixth takes both 
first and second.” 


324 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


Philip was looking doubtfully at his companion. 
“ I’ll do my very best for you, but I really haven’t 
any license to get a place. I've beaten Rhoades 
once or twice in practice, but Bronson is always 
six inches or a foot better than my best." 

“ Nonsense," said Tait bitingly. “ Don't lie 
down now. You know you're always better in 
competition, and I'll expect at least a foot more 
than you’ve ever done. If you don’t I'll know 
you're not trying." 

Philip’s eyes narrowed and his face flushed. 
He was prompted to answer back harshly, for he 
had been watching Tait's last attempt in the fence 
vault, but, determined if possible to do nothing to 
upset the harmony which existed on this day, he 
checked himself and simply answered : “ Don't 
worry about my not trying." 

“ All ready for the shot put ! " called Mr. Pat- 
terson, who as well as being judge in numerous 
events, was also the master of ceremonies. “ Clear 
the floor ! " 

Each contestant was to have three puts ; the 
five highest to have each three more. Bacon was 
not the only one who had kept strict account of 
the various scores, and the school, realizing the 
closeness of the struggle, lined up on each side 
of the contestants, leaving a narrow lane down 
which the shot was to be put. In his second try, 

325 


PHILIP KENT 


Doane put the result of the competition out of the 
bounds of speculation with a put of thirty-four feet, 
only two inches short of the school record. 

“ Great work, old fellow,” said Conway, patting 
him on the back. “ 1 didn’t think you had it in 
you.” 

Conway, though not hurling the shot to such a 
distance, ran his team-mate a close second, and the 
interest of the school centered around the remain- 
ing places. 

“ How do you stand ? ” asked Bacon excitedly, 
as Philip straightened up from an anxious scru- 
tiny of the tape after his third attempt. 

“ That was twenty-nine feet,” he said. “ That 
puts me in fourth place so far.” 

“ Good work ; keep it up.” 

As the last man took his third attempt Mr. 
Patterson did some quick figuring. 

“ The following men have three more tries,” he 
announced : “ Doane, Conway, Bronson, Kent, 
Rhoades.” 

Philip looked at the individual scores and 
hitched up his trousers. The sixth formers were, 
of course, beyond his reach, and Bronson, out- 
doing himself, had hurled the shot close to thirty- 
three feet. That mark Philip knew also was more 
than he could hope to attain, so he centered his 
energies on keeping ahead of Rhoades. 

326 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

“ My put was twenty-nine seven,” he explained 
to The Minute, “ and Louis Rhoades did twenty- 
nine three. Now for it.” 

He walked into the circle, picked up the shot, 
cuddled it well under his right ear, took a swift 
spring, and reversed. Every ounce that was in 
him went into the extension of his arm. An anx- 
ious moment followed while Mr. Patterson read 
the tape. 

“ Not quite up, Kent,” he said. “ Twenty-nine 
six.” 

Conway bettered his former mark by six inches, 
but the others fell back. On his second attempt, 
however, Rhoades, urged on by his classmates, 
executed the complicated motion in perfect time. 
As he afterward said, he could feel every muscle 
working as one, from the tip of his toes to the 
ends of his fingers. Perfect form always brings 
results. 

“ Thirty feet and half an inch,” called Mr. Pat- 
terson, amid cheers from the fifth form and groans 
from the fourth. 

“ You’ve done thirty feet, Philip,” urged Tait 
excitedly. “ Do it again or I’ll think you’re a 
quitter.” 

“ 1 did an even thirty once,” retorted Philip, 
“ and I never came near it again. Don’t be so 
free with your language.” 

327 


PHILIP KENT 


Angry clear through, as much from having to re- 
strain his anger as from Tait’s remark, Philip 
stepped into the ring for his last try, while the 
spectators held their breath. It was a valiant at- 
tempt, but in his eagerness to follow the shot 
he leaned a little too far, lost his balance, and 
fouled. 

“ Too bad,” said The Minute commiseratingly, 
as a silent Philip took his place beside him. “ Mr. 
Pat didn’t measure that, but it looked to me fully 
as far as Rhoades’ last one.” 

Tait gave him a withering glance. “ I didn’t 
think you’d throw me like that,” he said, “ when 
you had second place for the form right in your 
grasp. I certainly thought you could rise to the 
occasion.” 

“ I’m sorry,” said Philip shortly. “ I haven’t 
had enough practice this winter.” 

“ That’s a poor excuse,” sneered Tait. “ Whose 
fault is it, anyway, if you’re short on practice?” 

Philip gripped The Minute’s arm to keep him- 
self from answering hotly. “ My own fault,” he 
said mildly ; “ but don’t rub it in.” 

Now that the contest between the forms had 
been decided definitely, interest centered on the 
question of Doane’s breaking the school record. 
He had one more try. 

“ Go to it, old boy,” said Conway ; “ you can 
328 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

add a foot to your best put if you just get a good 
heave.” 

The intention of breaking the record showed in 
every line of Doane's figure as he balanced the 
shot in his right hand. The spectators crept closer 
to the center aisle. 

“ He looks as if he were going to do it,” said 
Philip in Rodney's ear, as they stood in the front 
rank of spectators near the twenty foot mark. 

“ Put a piece of paper at thirty-five feet, will 
you, Mr. Pat?” called Doane. “ Give me some- 
thing to aim at. That's the stuff.” 

Slowly he swung back, balancing on his right 
foot; then, with a preliminary crouch, he sprang 
swiftly across the circle, shifted, and his long arm, 
the sinews tense, shot out. 

As the missile left his hand, a shout of warning 
sprang to Mr. Patterson's lips. Doane, in his 
swift spring, had over-emphasized the reverse ; 
had shifted too far. The shot, instead of going 
straight down the floor, was aimed straight at the 
spectators on the left side. 

It was all over in a moment. Rodney, engaged 
in answering Philip’s last remark, had his eyes 
turned away from Doane. As the crowd scattered 
instinctively out of harm's way, it left Rodney 
standing directly in the path of the missile, una- 
ware, until too late, of his danger. With a shout 

329 


PHILIP KENT 


Philip swept his companion aside. The move- 
ment saved Rodney, but the shot caught Philip 
squarely in the head. Bewildered by Philip's sud- 
den thrust, Rodney turned in time to catch his 
friend as he sank limply to the floor. Instantly 
there was a hubbub. Doane, white as a sheet, 
pushed his way through the crowd which gathered, 
regardless of whom he upset. 

“ Is he hurt badly ? ” he called wildly, as he 
sank to his knees beside Philip’s silent figure. 

“ Give him air,” said Mr. Patterson. “ Clear 
out, all of you. Where did it hit him?” he said, 
fingering Philip’s skull. “ Ah,” he exclaimed a 
moment later ; “ here it is,” as he touched a rap- 
idly forming lump. “ We must get him to the 
hospital at once. Rig up a stretcher of some 
kind,” he called. “ Blankets will do.” 

In a few minutes Philip, still unconscious, was 
carried carefully and mournfully out into the sun- 
shine and up to the infirmary, where the doctor 
hastily summoned began a thorough examination 
of his injury. 

Back in the gymnasium, excited knots gathered 
to discuss the incident. 

“ It happened so quick I couldn’t move,” said 
Bacon. 

“I saw it coming,” said another, “ and just 
dodged.” 


330 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


“How did it happen, exactly ?” was another 
query. 

“ A mighty plucky thing/' said Conway. “ I 
was standing just on the other side and saw it all. 
Kent might have saved himself easily ; instead of 
that he chose to save The Minute. You ought 
to be mighty grateful to him, kid/' he added, put- 
ting his hand around The Minute's shoulders. 

“ I am,” said The Minute brokenly. “ I guess 
he just about saved my life. My skull would have 
cracked.” 

“ Do you mean,” said Conway, trying to relieve 
the gloom, “ that Kent's skull is thicker?” 

“ No,” said The Minute half-way between laugh- 
ter and tears, “ he’s just so much bigger than I am.” 

“ It was a mighty creditable thing to do and 
took quick thinking,” said Conway. “ Malvern 
ought to be proud of him.” 

“ It should,” answered The Minute defiantly. 
“ I always said that he was as good as any, but 
you've all kept hounding him so this year that 
you have nearly broken Lippy's spirit. I think 
you all owe him an apology.” 

Conway looked at the small champion soberly. 
“ I think perhaps we all do,” he said. 

The Minute spent an anxious evening outside 
the infirmary door, but at last the doctor felt justi- 
fied in issuing a bulletin. 

33i 


PHILIP KENT 


“ He’ll be all right,” he said as he came out. 
“ Nothing is fractured. I don't think it will 
amount to more than a slight concussion, but it’s 
a mighty fortunate thing it didn’t hit him a bit 
lower down.” 

“He will be all right?” persisted The Minute. 
“ Are you sure ? ” 

The doctor looked at the eager face before him. 
“ Yes ; sure,” he said. “ He ought to be up and 
around in a week.” The Minute turned away and 
looked out of the corridor window. He had a sus- 
picion that his face was showing more emotion 
than was proper for a staid member of the fourth 
form. 

“ Do you know,” said Conway in the sixth form 
room after they had heard that Philip was out of 
danger, “ do you know, I think we’ve been doing 
that boy an injustice. We’ve held a pretty heavy 
hand over him these last few months, and even 
though he was fresh, he’s been trying hard lately 
to turn over a new leaf, and so far as I am con- 
cerned, any boy who will do what he did this 
afternoon ought to be forgiven all his transgres- 
sions. How about it?” He turned to the other 
members of his form. 

“ Sure,” said Doane. The rest nodded. 

“ Well, then,” said Conway, “ as soon as he’s out 
of the woods, I think the decent thing for us to 
332 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 

do is to tell him so. If it’s agreeable to the rest, 
Doane and I will be a committee of two to attend 
to it.” 

“ Right you are, Cap ! ” said Perry. “ Tell him 
that bygones are bygones, and that Malvern is 
proud of him.” 

For several days Philip lay in a kind of stupor; 
only a vague memory of what had occurred re- 
mained to him. His head ached horribly, and in 
the vagaries of sickness his clearest impression was 
Tait’s sneering voice when he had failed to secure 
a place in the shot put, so that mentally and phys- 
ically he tossed in a bed of pain. One day, 
toward the end of the week, when he was sitting 
up for the first time, the nurse asked him if he 
felt like seeing visitors. He nodded, thinking 
that it was probably The Minute, and was some- 
what alarmed when Conway and Doane were ush- 
ered in. 

“ Why, you’re looking fine,” said Conway after 
the first greeting. “ You’ll be out again in no 
time; won’t he, nurse?” 

“ Yes, indeed,” she replied. “ He’s really all 
right now, but the doctor thought it just as well 
that he should rest up a bit. He seems a good 
deal run down.” 

“ We’re all waiting for you,” said Doane ; “ so 
hurry up. The school wants to see its hero.” 

333 


PHILIP KENT 


“ Hero ? ” said Philip flushing. “ Nonsense.” 

“ No nonsense about it,” said Doane warmly. 
“ But that's not what we came up to talk to you 
about.” 

“ No,” said Conway. “ Kent, we've come up 
here to tell you that the sixth is sorry for having 
ridden you so hard this winter. We feel that we 
haven't been entirely fair to you, and if you're 
willing to let bygones be bygones on both sides, 
why, we want to see you back again on your old 
footing.” 

“ Why, Conway ” began Philip, and then in 

his weak condition the emotion caused by this un- 
expected reinstatement was too much for him, and 
he buried his face in his hands. 

“ All right, old man,” said Conway, patting him 
on the shoulder. “ We understand. Just you 
hurry up and get well,” and the two sixth formers 
tiptoed out of the room. 

Later that afternoon, Rodney strode into Ba- 
con's room as though he were the bearer of great 
tidings. 

“ I've just been up to see Philip,” he announced, 
“and his troubles are all behind him.” 

“What?” said Bacon and Tait with one voice. 
“ Is his head all right again ? Entirely cleared 
up?” 

The Minute looked at them scornfully. “ His 
334 


IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


head/’ he said ; “ I haven't been worrying about 
his head. I meant Philip, our old Philip. Con- 
way and Doane had just been up there, and I 
found Philip smiling." 


The Stories in this Series are : 

PHILIP KENT 

PHILIP KENT IN THE LOWER SCHOOL 


335 



T. TRUXTUN HARE 


F EW writers for boys know more 
about college athletics than 
T. Truxtun Hare. * He played 
football at St. Mark’s School, 

Southborough, Massachusetts, 
where he spent five years, and after- 
wards played four years on the 
University of Pennsylvania team 
and was captain for the last two sea- 
sons. He was also, in his time, a 
notable point winner at the Inter- 
collegiates, and was a member of the 
American team that competed in the 
Olympic games at Paris in 1898, 
where he won second place in the 
hammer-throw. Mr. Hare is an 
attorney, practicing in Philadelphia. 

He says that his favorite amusement has always been 
camping, and that is why some of the scenes in “A 
Senior Quarter-back” are laid in the Canadian woods. 
He lives in the suburbs of Philadelphia, and says that 
when he cannot go camping he has to be contented 
with tennis and raising pigs. His books have made 
for him thousands of friends among American boys. 

There are no breezier, straighter, more human 
books for boys than those of Mr. Hare. They deal 
with real boys, tackling very live problems, and one 
feels himself actually “on the side-lines” watching 
them. Athletics help a boy to do the right thing at 
the right time, and these stories prove it. 

Mr. Hare was recently appointed chairman of the 
football committee at the University of Pennsylvania. 
His books are: 

Making the Freshman Team 
A Sophomore Half-back 
A Junior in the Line 
A Senior Quarter-back 
A Graduate Coach 
Philip Kent 

Philip Kent in the Lower School 



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